The Californian Sage, Equaling Olympus
by kujikiri21
Summary: AU. Xander Harris went as something else for Halloween. A figure shrouded in legend and myth, but remembered incorrectly only through media. Now, because of the changes to his choices the costume influenced, the PTB want him dead. Their lackey was barely able to do that, banishing from the world, but was interfered with by two gods. Now in PJ world, how will this new Xander act?
1. Origins

**The Californian Sage, Equaling Olympus**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Percy Jackson**

**Chapter 1: Origins**

Xander Harris was not having the best of days. Strike that, he was not having the best of month.

His 'seeing all fifty states' road trip had come to an abrupt stop at Oxnard. His uncle Rory's gift of a Chevy Bel Air convertible turned out to be a Chevy Bel Air piece of shit with a decent paint job.

Xander had found that out when it had collapsed like a clown on the highway. Ten miles from Oxnard. In the middle of nowhere in the desert. At high noon.

Needless to say, he made for a bewildering sight for the locals as he manually hauled his luggage into town, sweating like a pig and covered in enough dirt, dust and sand to blend into the side of the road if he lay down on it.

A quick report to an amused desk worker at the local PD and he was quickly trying to find cheap accommodation for his stay until everything was figured out. The one slice of good luck he had during the whole month he had been in this Hellmouthy town, was being able to get a room at a local B&B.

When the report came in for his Chevy POS, he had been far from happy. It was a complete wreck, unable to be repaired, having so many faults that it was a surprise he had even been able to get as far as he did.

Which brought about another problem. Well, two actually.

Transportation and Funds.

His road trip fund was too small to even afford a decent second hand car, which meant in order to get more funds, to get a new car, he needed a job.

Thankfully, there was one place in town that was looking for workers, and was willing to sign up some kid who had just graduated, grades unseen.

Not so thankfully, said place was the local strip joint.

For the next month, he had slaved away, washing plates and glasses, barely getting two words from the other staff.

It had felt like being back at Tony and Jessica's. Despite what he said aloud, in his heart and mind, he would _never_ refer to them as his parents. Only Joyce, Giles and Jenny had that privilege, or were even worthy of being called so, despite the fact you only had two parents, not three.

The highlight, or perhaps _low_light may be a better description, was the time one of the male dancers had called in sick.

The events of that night would forever be sealed behind mental steel doors, ten feet thick, locked with a metric ton of chains and guarded twenty-four seven by an entire platoon of US Marines,

In other words, it would never be spoken of. Or even thought of, if he had his way.

Regardless, that last night was able to push his cash over the line to be able to afford a new car. Not a brand new car, granted, but a new car all the same. One that actually worked this time.

Not wasting anytime, he had quit the job the moment he had the cash reserves for what he needed and had been quick stepping back to the B&B with a slight smile on his lips for the first time in a month.

His new car was practically singing to him, telling him to leave this place far behind, and let the memories rot, dead and forgotten, in the depths of his mind.

Of course, true to form, this was the cue for everything to fall apart for one Alexander Lavelle Harris.

Again.

Returning to the present, we find our intrepid hero cornered in an alley by multiple lowlifes of society. Their golden eyes burning fiercely beneath their ridged and craggy brows as their teeth, like a shark's mouth, readied themselves to bite down on their prey once they had pounced.

Vampires.

Xander was mentally cursing himself a blue streak as he tried to keep his eyes on all of them at once. The one night he forgets to bring even a stake, because he had never seen or heard of any vamp activity in the area and had relaxed his guard slightly after a month of his nighttime hunting senses dulling, and then he was cornered by a full half dozen of his mortal enemies.

Correction, six mortal enemies plus one smug bastard in a heavy black robe and hood who stood behind the vamps. Xander couldn't make out any features, the robe covering every inch of skin, but the way it stood seemed to convey a vast amusement and satisfaction.

Seeing how dire this confrontation truly was, and not willing to become a vamps newest Bloody Mary, Xander did what he did best, even as his eyes noticed a possible solution for him out of the corner of his eye.

Talked fast.

"Now guys," he said taking a step back again as they approached, "can't we talk about this? I mean," he babbled faster, stepping back even further, as they kept approaching. They had been near the entrance, having herded him into this alley, while he was about three-fourths of the way down it, "I'm just a single guy. Scrawny and little and full of cholesterol. There wouldn't be enough to go around, not to mention the blood problems you guys will have if the cholesterol gets into you."

"Oh we don't mind," a tall and lanky vamp, one of the leaders in Xander's opinion, even as he backed himself against the bak wall of the alley. A dead end, "to us, the young and scrawny like you are like a dessert. Small and sweet."

Xander laughed hesitantly, even as the speaker's compatriots did, "you say such the nicest things," Xander admitted, his hand drifting to the side subtlety and gripping his hope for survival lightly, just so he didn't attract attention from the fang-faces, "but I am obliged to tell you that I don't swing that way."

The lanky spokesman guffawed at the gallows humour from the young man, "I like you, kid, you have spunk and gumption. As reward for impressing me, I may just Turn you," around him, his sub-ordinates all cracked their knuckles and growled lowly, ready to fight.

"Thanks for the offer," Xander said, even as he saw the leader was now in the 'zone', as he liked to call it, "but I'll have to pass. How about a counter-offer?"

Then he _moved_.

He pushed himself off of the wall violently, giving himself just that little extra speed that needed to survive this assault, turning it into a quick leap, moving faster than he probably should have been capable of, and thrust the old wooden mop handle, thankfully broken and splintered at the end, that he had seen and pierced the heart of the spokesman before he even knew what had hit him.

But it didn't end there.

Knowing that the elements of speed and surprise would be his greatest asset in this fight, he kept moving, ripping out his makeshift weapon from the now dusting vamp and moved towards the others, who were all frozen in surprise at the demise of their leader..

Another was conveniently within reach, suffering the same fate as its comrade, even as Xander's foot lashed out to take the legs out from under the next nearest one. A palm thrust with just enough force to knock the body off the wooden spear, a twirl of the wood to gain momentum, and the third vampire of the night was killed, spear nailing him to the stone ground through his hear briefly before being ripped out.

By that time, the other three were beginning to stir, recovering their wits enough to defend themselves. Xander once more did the 'swift leap', short and low and fast, bringing him into the range of the next vamp. A grab from the undead, blindingly fast, was seen through effortlessly from the human and dodged. A swift swing of the staff took the legs out from under it and a powerful stomp to the throat, the sound of crushed, if unused, airways was heard clearly. Reflexively, it made the vamp gag and hold his throat, instincts from the time he was amongst the living having not quite deserted him.

Xander quickly stabbed again before it could recover.

As it was nailed to the ground, Xander held the staff firmly and used it to leverage himself up and over it, like a gymnast, avoiding the retribution of another undead blood-drinking solar-challenged abomination. He practically did a hand stand on the top of the pole for a moment, before letting himself complete the move, and kept falling forward, swinging his legs to side slightly, and used the staff as leverage an aerial double kick, centre mass, on the just dodged vampire, launching him an easy ten feet, and sending him skidding a few more back to the feet of the robed figure.

The last vampire looked at him hesitantly, not sure what to make of a seemingly normal human that had been able to take out five of his brethren within a New York minute and now seeming sat in the air, hovering a few inches off of the ground, as he braced his hands and arms on the very tip of the staff to keep him that way for a moment. To the recently turned vamp, what the boy had performed was more like something out of a chop-socky flick than a real life fight.

He didn't have time to contemplate more as the boy, or whatever the hell he was, used his arms to propel him up and towards him, feet first, in a move that should have been impossible. His disbelieving face had bootprints stamped into it a moment later, knocking him down, which was followed a whistling in the air and ashen oblivion another moment after that.

Xander panted slightly heavily, hiding the true extent of his exhaustion. Even as his muscles felt like they were filled with acid, dissolving slowly beneath his skin, he stood tall as he looked carefully at the robed figure and the groaning figure of the remaining vamp at its feet.

It had been quite a while since had pulled off the tricks he had just done, so he was a little out of shape and resolved to make an effort to bring himself back to where he should be. These skills were one of the few things he could use and develop from his little Halloween experience. Some of the more esoteric skills of the character he had gone as wasn't available to him, nor was he even close to as strong or fast as he was, but the memories, a full lifetime's and even longer, had stayed with him, never allowing them to fade or become diluted.

Memories of battles, of war, of mischief, of penance, of friendship.

And training. Lots and lots of training.

With them as an aid, and a few spars and discussions with Giles, who had been quite impressed by the raw skill he had shown, however he had obtained it, he had become quite the formidable staff-user. Even if Giles could still beat him into the ground if he had a mind to.

Those lessons, along with the older male helping him to keep a grip on his own mind so as his psyche would not be swept away by the weight of an immensely older and experienced mind, had proved invaluable now in saving his arse.

Soft clapping drew his attention to the robed figure, pale bony hands emerging from the voluminous sleeves of the dark robe and softly applauding, "Impressive," the figure murmured, carrying easily to Xander's ears despite the lack of volume, "I can see why _they_ were so concerned about your actions," poisonous yellow eyes, different from a vamp's, vividly glowing, were glimpsed through the darkness of the hood for a moment before disappearing, "and the resulting consequences."

OOO-kay. That _didn't_ sound ominous at all. Xander was suddenly more wary than he had been before. Whoever this guy was, he was bad news. Not only did he seem powerful enough that the vamps had taken orders from him to kill his innocent self, but it also seemed that he had been informed about him from sources higher up the mumbo-jumbo food chain.

Yes, Xander was pretty sure it was a really, really, really shitty day to be him.

The vamp at the bottom of the creepy guy's feet groaned louder and stirred from his kick induced slumber. Xander had been rather happy with what he had managed to do to the vamp, even if it had almost strained a couple of his muscles in doing so. A vamp in pain always brought a song to his heart. Maybe a little sadistic, but he honestly believed vamps were little more then vermin that needed an exterminator.

The robe shifted a little, like the figure was glancing down at the injured vamp, "Disappointing," the voice, now raspy and cold, freezing the vamp in place. A long finger pointed at the fallen form of the vamp, "Away with you."

Before the vamp could even say a word, an orb of power, like lightning, shot from the finger of the figure and struck the vamp, consuming it in a surge of crackling power. A moment passed, and not even ashes were left.

Xander stared a little wide eyed at what the figure had done, even as his guts turned to ice. Yeah, it was a really shitty day to be him, alright.

"Now," the figure's voice returned to the smooth, urbane tone, cultured and polite. It made Xander want to bash the brains out of this oily snake, "what should I do with you, Alexander Lavelle Harris?"

"Ahh," Xander said, raising a finger in futile hope, "I don't suppose 'letting him go on his merry way' is on the table, is it?"

The figure chuckled approaching him slowly, almost seeming to glide over the concrete, "Unfortunately for you, no it is not, Mr. Harris."

"Please," Xander interjected firmly, finding a slice of bravado even as he knew his end was coming, "call me Alexander or Xander. I prefer not to be linked to my unfortunate sperm donor."

The hood shifted, like the figure had cocked it's head in curiosity, "I suppose I could do that," the figure allowed, "I'll consider it a mercy for a dead man," the feeling of smirk was felt by the young man, "a 'last request', if you will."

"Thanks a bunch," Xander said, firmly gripping his makeshift staff, knowing it would do little against a being who could throw this much power around with barely a word, "though, could you satisfy this dying man's curiosity? I really want to know what I did to earn this little execution."

The figured paused, just out of reach of his 'zone', damn it, "I suppose so," the figure responded before explaining, "it just do happens that many of your...misadventures... on the Hellmouth have disturbed a great many beings, powerful ones, and nearly destroyed many of their plans. Managing to save the Gypsy woman was one of them, she has been quite the pest among the lot of your troupe."

"She's a good woman," Xander said with a shrug, "somewhere between a fun aunt and an older sister. Besides I was only in the right place at the right time," he grimaced slightly, remembering the nasty game of cat and muse he and Jenny had played against Angelus and his vamp-mooks, all through the school, until dawn had managed to arrive, forcing them below ground and gone. It was the scariest night he had ever experienced and not one he was willing to repeat if he didn't have a choice.

"Perhaps," the figure said in agreement, "but you still prevented her from being removed from the playing board," the figure snorted slightly in annoyance, "the Clans were never the most predictable or trustworthy of servants, too much passionate and too little reason," a yellow gimlet eye pierced the resigned boy, "though that was only a mere annoyance compared to the utter chaos you caused with what you did to the Slayer-line. Twice."

"Hey!" Xander objected, his anger now returning full force, stung at what the figure had implied, "Was I supposed to just let my friend lay there, dead and dying?"

Oh now the Xan-man was pissed. Whoever the scum were that was calling this guy's shots, had managed to make his shit list. Wanting to kill him for saving his friends, reviving Buffy and managing to revive Kendra? That just wasn't cricket and showed that the Big Boss wasn't the most benevolent person around.

"If you valued your own life, you would have," the figure responded drolly, "but then, for a person who seems to make the most suicidal of schemes and battle plans, it shouldn't be surprising that your ignorance blinds you from the big picture."

"Your big picture is painted with the blood of innocents and champions," Xander growled, disgust in his voice. He could now see what the man was talking about. Sacrifice one to save ten, kill ten to save a hundred. All that blood, created from murder, for there was no other way to describe setting up someone's death even if they hadn't pulled the trigger the themselves, just so these morons could reach the promised land, as decided by them.

"So," the figure shrugged, "people die everyday, living out there meaningless little lives, wasting them away, and doing nothing of value before their death. We just make sure that, when you die, your death actually does something to help the 'White-Hats', giving them an edge, even if we have to fudge the lifespan and cut it a little short," the figure snorted again, "you lot breed like rabbits anyway, its not like they were truly important any-"

Smash! Crack!

The figure rolled to the side to avoid the makeshift staff when it was smashed down where he had been just a moment ago, making the broom handle snap and break in half, by the angry fist of Xander Harris, whose anger had given him the strength and power to move quick enough, even if the figure was out side his 'zone'.

Fury was all that filled Xander's mind. Uncaring of his physical state, of the delicate balance of his mind, gave himself over to the memories that were housed within him, letting them take the reins and battle his foe, backed by his indomitable will and immense anger and rage, channeling it into power to force his limbs to move that little bit faster, to hit that little bit stronger.

For the first time, in a long, long time, the fury of an Ape descended upon the mortal realm.

"Shit!" the figure swore tersely, avoiding a wicked stab from the splintered end of the broken mop and another dodge to avoid its twin, placing him with his back against a wall, with no way out.

"Fuck!" he swore again as a the shattered staff halves smashed into his ribs, making him double over, only to set straight with a knee directly to the solar-plexus, cracking his sternum judging from the sharp blinding pain in his chest, and crunching back into the crumbling wall.

Fists, wood, knees and elbows rained down on the still hooded figure, giving him a working over the Famiglias would take notes on. Xander's rage knew no bounds as he tore down the figure, who was obviously stronger than himself, never letting him get a breath to retaliate, How dare he put down the sacrifice of his friends! How dare he call them unimportant!

So deep in his rage was he, that he missed the glow of the now desperate figure's hands.

He didn't miss the explosive force that hit him though.

Xander felt as if her was just hit by a rocket to the gut, the force sending him flying back. The pain in his gut was soon matched by the pain in his back as he was buried into the wall on the other side of the alley, making a snow-angel in the brick and mortar that now held him up.

"T-That" the hooded figure coughed wetly, spitting out blood and bile to clear his throat before continuing, "That is quite enough," a yellow eye burned deeply as it glared at the one that had closed it's partner by an elbow to the socket, "you will pay for that, boy," the figure hissed and rasped, trying to speak normally through a damaged throat.

"Fuck you," Xander said hoarsely, weakly. His body was spent, pushed beyond all reasonable bounds in his rage, and he was now paying for it, his body feeling like it had gone through a blender, his muscles and tendons torn and ripped in his rage.

Helpless in front of a pissed-off enemy.

The figure growled, "Originally, I was supposed to kill you," the figure was now hissing like an angry serpent, "make it look like a rescue gone wrong, just so the troupe of yours can be kept off balance, make them pliable," the figure was finally able to stand again, even if he was leaning heavily on the brick wall behind him, "it would have been painless, a quick unconsciousness followed by a draining. You wouldn't have been Turned, despite what the fool had said. But now," he growled angrily, "now, you have royally pissed me off. Death would be too kind for you."

Xander's apprehension grew as the figure stiffly reached into the folds of his robe, drawing out a simple scroll, tied in an emerald green ribbon that seemed to glow.

"Do you know what this is, boy?" the figure mocked, "this is ancient scroll that has within it, a sealed portion of power that was stolen from the monks of Dagon. It was reputed that the holder of this scroll could go anywhere, enter any realm, without a toll being extracted for doing so, even the world of the dead can be entered, neither Hell's nor Heaven's gates could bar them entrance."

A glint of cruelty crept into his unswollen eye, "Turned around, this scroll is able to banish foes from the world, cutting the links they have to their native realm to ensure that they are unable to return."

Xander's eyes widened in understanding and horror.

"I see you understand," the figure said amusedly, "I am going to use this to banish you from this place, never to return. But you will live. You will live knowing that time marches on, your friends and family will scarcely remember you.

"And you will not be there to protect them from our plans."

"Damn you," Xander growled as he tried to work himself out from the wall. That damn bastard was threatening his friends, to make them dance his tune, ending in their deaths so as to reap their own rewards from their sacrifices.

"Goodbye, Alexander Lavelle Harris," the figure smirked, showing sharp teeth, as it loosened the ribbon from the scroll, "have a _pleasant_ trip."

The scroll began to glow brightly, a vivid green that reminded the struggling boy of the Green Lantern from DC Comics. The light began to tremble, quiver, quake and ripple, like green water in the air. It spun in place above the above the scroll, seeming to search, before locking onto the boy pressed into the wall and launching itself forward.

It had traveled only a foot, when time seemed to stop. The world was still, the air unmoving, frozen in place. Those caught in this sudden stoppage, were completely unaware.

"Well now-" a light male voice spoke as a new figure stepped seemingly out of the wall next to the frozen and oblivious mage, before being interrupted.

"This is-" a deeper male voice continued, coming from just as close by, from almost the same mouth in fact.

"Interesting," the two spoke in unison.

Stepping into the dim light of the alley, was a strange man. Taller than the average human and much more solid, the being looked around with his four eyes, two for each face it had. The left hand side and the right hand side mirroring each other with a thick but neatly trimmed dark beard connecting with the side burns, making his faces look framed by the pitch black hair.

They/he stood between the two frozen combatants, one a robed mage, quite powerful if the being discerned correctly, and thoroughly evil. Not a word he used lightly, as good and evil were often subjective, but this mage's soul was blacker than pitch, twisted and distorted beyond the original concept of 'soul' due to the acts blasphemy and abomination he had performed, simply for the mere joy at doing so.

It was quite frankly disgusting for him to witness, his divine sight letting him see more, delving beneath the surface of the skin, than any mortal could.

His attention then turned to the other person in the alley, one that had a trace of his own power upon him. That skerrick of lingering power being used is what drew him to this place.

Black hair, brown eyes and rather young, still in his teens. The divine being frowned slightly as he sensed the familiar power resting on the boy, covering him like a blanket.

"Hellmouth," the face turned toward the boy embedded in the brick wall said to himself softly. This boy was from a Hellmouth, probably Sunnydale if the he got the location of this town correct. More than that though, the sheer power of the miasma from the Hellmouth that blanketed him indicated something that he hadn't seen in quite a while.

A Fell.

A Fell was the name of a being that had been born within the influence of an active Hellmouth and had grown up within said influence, passively absorbing the power a Hellmouth naturally gives out, which in turn granted the Fell a few boons and disadvantages. As the Hellmouth was a dimensional disturbance, Fells had a way about them, something that disturbs the order of things, capable of breaking natural laws, by shifting the chances of phenomena happening unconsciously, such as wooden plank going to strike them suddenly snapping for an unexplainable reason, or even mystical laws, such as prophecies.

In short, they were the ultimate wild card, completely unpredictable.

This, of course, led to both sides of the fence, who both wanted the order of things kept how they wanted it, wanting them out of the way. Considering they generally killed off such beings before they hit puberty, it looked like they missed one and were rectifying that oversight.

Easier said than done though, considering that they grew stronger the longer they stayed atop a Hellmouth, and this one seemed to have never left it until about a month ago. Making the boy quite a rarity.

There was also the other little features a Fell had. One of which is being a demon magnet, or rather supernatural magnet. As his aura is juiced by a Hellmouth, his aura in turn also emits a slightly weaker but almost identical field, drawing the 'night life' to him like a moth to a flame. The 'night life' probably doesn't even do it consciously, just letting their instinct draw them to him.

The second feature, which was more of a bug, was the distortion effect. Essentially, any magic cast by him, or on him, will never go as planned, often having side-effects unforeseen or even backfiring completely. No witch worth their salt would be stupid enough to cast magic on a Fell, not with even the slightest chance of it coming back to bite them hard on the arse.

Properly trained, and identified, and a Fell was the 'underground's' and the 'white sky's'. Worst nightmare. Able to almost waltz through their security like it wasn't even there and able to bring down even the mightiest of foes with a little bit of luck.

This made them even greater targets for the various hatchet men among the upper halls and the lower depths. Which is probably why the boy was set against a mage of immensely powerful proportions, his magical power and skill able to overcome the distortion effect.

The boy needed to die, no ifs, ands or buts, in the opinion of the many in power among the lower and upper realms.

Janus wasn't going to let that happen.

He finally recognised the boy, the lingering presence of his own power jogging the literally two-faced god's memory. One of his followers, an Ethan Rayne, had performed a spell on the Hellmouth some time ago, drawing on his Chaos aspect, and changed any who had worn an item from his store into their costume.

The boy, with a Fell's luck for drawing out the strange and unusual, had been caught up in it, changing into a character from myth and legend.

When the spell broke, all the costumes had returned to normal and there were only brief lingering effects among the possessed, which had faded away by the time a fortnight had passed, their memories of that person returning to the ether.

As a Fell, and a powerful one, the effects were somewhat different for the boy. The memories had stayed.

Each night he went to bed, he relived the life and times of the being that had possessed him, knowing each and every one of their sorrows and triumphs, their grief and joy, their glory and death. It had taken a formidable will for the boy to not be completely taken over by the much older and experienced personality, his psyche able to weather the mass amounts of memory from the timeless being that had inhabited his body for a few brief hours.

Even then it had changed him a little.

Apparently, some of the skills had drifted over if the way he had seen the boy use the mop handle as a weapon was any indication. Post-cognition was really handy like that. Also his skills in the old Chinese languages were impeccable, and when spoken, it was without a trace of an accent.

There were a few other minor changes, little quirks of the possessor passing on to the possessed, but other than that, there were almost no changes. The side-effects had still allowed the boy to be able to do a great deal of harm to the Pricks-That-Be's little plans, even more so than he would have done if he had chosen the soldier costume instead.

Still, Janus was somewhat fond of the kid, who made decisions based in his own beliefs rather than relying on words inscribed on scrolls before toilet paper had been invented to guide his course. The boy believed firmly in free will, the right to make their decisions, their own mistakes, and to learn from them.

This was something that Janus, the God of Choices, could appreciate and had earned the boy his favour.

It would seem now was the time for the favour to be called in.

"We can't keep him here," the right head said, still looking at the green bolt of light frozen in the air with a frown, "our influence is limited in this realm and that bolt is made from the Key."

"True," the left side answered sadly, "but we can shift the destination to somewhere more...palatable. With a going away present, of course."

The right side thought for a moment, before it's eyebrows shot up, "you don't mean _there_, do you?"

"Our influence is limited," the left explained, "but with our existence _there_, we have a bit more power to call on," the left smirked a little, "not to mention it is close to home for the boy. Sun, sand and monsters galore."

"True," agreed the right, "so shall we?"

Without a response, the entirety of the toga wearing deity began to glow a bright blue, readying himself form a powerful spell...

"Wait!" A hoarse voice called.

Only to be surprised, and greatly shocked, as another being exclaimed at him, despite the fact he had frozen time for a duration. Only the a being stronger than he could have done so.

His glow dimmed as he began to question the intruder, turning in the direction of the voice, "Who call- aaahhhh," Janus sighed in understanding, and slight sorrow, as the being staggered into the light.

Clad in black silk pants that were taped at the ankle, making them puff out at the knees, and a small vest that barely covered the top half of his torso, leaving the rest of the muscular v-cut body bare, with vivid burning red eyes staring at the deity beneath the white gold hair even as a slight smirk showed off the figure's enlarged canines, creasing the laugh lines around the lips and corners of the eyes. His bracer adorned muscular, like a fighter not a body builder, arms carried a large red silk bag slung over his shoulder.

Despite the slightly inhuman face, a subtle cast to it that made many a mortal think 'ape', he cut quite the impressive figure, the strength of his aura drawing people's attention, like bees to flowers.

At least it would have, if not for the sense of exhaustion, the bone- no, the _soul_- deep weariness that Janus could feel beneath the physical facade. A tiredness that came only from time, time without knowledge or repute, without acknowledgement or worship.

The tiredness of a Fading god.

"I said 'wait', you two-faced rock head," the coarse and hoarse voice snapped, even as it's owner leaned heavily against an alley wall.

Janus' eyebrows, all four of them, twitched in irritation, in unison. He had almost forgotten the disreputable manner this particular deity carried himself with. It made for excellent entertainment at parties, watching as other gods tried not to lose their temper at this ones disrespect, making their faces look like an artist's palette, right up until you were the target of his disrespect and crude humour.

Janus wasn't going to take that lying down, no way in Pluto.

"This coming from someone literally _born_ from a stone," both faces retorted, "tell me, were you stupid as child, or did working in the stables of the Jade Emperor only add the amount of horse shit in your brain pan, o Bimawen?"

The figure growled at the insult, "Don't mention that again. Ever."

"You started it," Left said with a whine.

"Enough," said Right sharply, before the older, more powerful, even if he was Fading, deity could retort, before the face of Janus sighed heavily, "what is it that you want, Sun Wukong?"

The Monkey King shifted uneasily, as if he was ashamed, something that had Janus-Right raising an eyebrow. For a deity known to mock even the Buddha, shame was almost alien to the being.

"I felt the boy," the King of Apes said, like he was pulling his teeth, gesturing to the boy embedded in the bricks, "and the danger he was in, just before you frozen the moment," the King sighed heavily, looking older suddenly, "I'm not as fast as I used to be."

Janus, both sides, blinked. If they took that comment at face value, then Sun Wukong, one of the most irresponsible and wild of deities, was coming to the aid of a boy that, to his knowledge, he had no link to.

Maybe the Nordic Ragnarok had started when he wasn't looking?

"Why would you do that?" Janus-Right, the more negative of the faces asked, suspicious of the god's attentions. While the boy may not be a true worshipper, he came pretty close, preaching his words without the benefits of access to the blessings of his followers, which earned a decent degree of respect. For a mortal.

Not to mention he still owed the kid a favour. Watching the uptight Bastards-That-Be run around like headless chickens for the last two years due to the boy's actions had been hilarious, for those above and below alike.

Served them right removing the majority of the gods, from all pantheons, influence on the world, reducing them to a slow, lingering death by Fading. They had not been pleased.

Not to mention many of the Greek Gods, at least those still around and not having Faded, had a major case of the blue balls without the relief of taking a mortal lover.

The Monkey King merely looked at the boy in question. There was a tenderness there, much to Janus' surprise, a gleam of true affection, devoid of the falsity and the mischief that usually surrounded the troublesome ape.

If he didn't know any better, Janus would have said it was like...

No. Janus shook his heads violently, ridding himself of the ridiculous thought. That was impossible.

"I have been around a long, long time, Janus," Sun began answering obliquely, "I have seen ages come and go, along with empires, dynasties and what have you," the ape sighed as he raised a large hand to stare at it, Janus' four eyes widening as he saw golden dust, fleeting, ephemeral and majestic, drifting off of the hand, as if in a gentle breeze, before dissipating into the ether, leaving the hand to seem to flicker, like a badly tuned television.

"And now it is my turn."

Janus bowed his heads for a moment, in respect and sorrow. He had known the old ape had lost a fair bit of his power because of the BTB's decision to Seperate, following their hogwash dogma of 'balance'.

Janus snorted slightly. The only way they would achieve their 'balance' is if they completely eradicated all the players on the board. Good and Bad. Janus personally preferred the world the way it was and the way it had been. A mix of light and dark, order and chaos, constantly changing and shifting in order to adapt and survive.

That cauldron of chaos had shaped heroes of yore. The warriors. Achilles and Hector. The strategists, Iskander and Attila. The sorcerers of the likes of Merlin and Morganna. Each of them, despite their differences, powerful enough to be remembered, to shape the world with their footsteps and to leave their footprints in history even if they are dead.

Any of them, despite some of them being mere mortals, and all of their fellow heroes of similar and even lesser renown, could have torn apart a Slayer, the so called Champion of the BTB, that Janus preferred to call 'slave', who now supposedly guarded the world due to the lack of direct divine influence.

It honestly made Janus rather angry to even think about it, so he tried not to do it too often.

(It should be noted that all elevators currently in use were frozen in their tracks at this time, their doors refusing to open or move up or down the shaft. Emergency services were worked to the bone the next day rescuing the trapped and getting them working once more. There hadn't been such an event since the Lock Up of '92, when all electric doors had refused to open around the world.)

Many Gods, reliant on the belief of their worshippers to survive, to exist, had then begun to Fade. It is the equivalent of death for an immortal, or maybe even worse. For a mortal, with life span comparable to a mayfly's to the Gods, death was inevitable, their spirit/soul or whatever you wish to call it, departing the material plane, returning to the Well of Souls and waiting to be reborn in a new body. For an immortal, one whose soul was crafted from the dreams and belief of mortals mingling with the power of the Earth itself, when they lost their lives, they lost their individuality, their sense of self, as they dissipated, forgotten, and the power returned to the bosom of the Earth-Mother.

Never to return.

For some who had seen ages come and go, remembering the better times for immortals, it was almost a blessing to return to the Earth, having come to despise the way humanity had changed without their involvement and under the yoke of the BTB.

For yet more, it was almost a curse to forced to linger, the stories of their existence among the mortals keeping them a step away from death, their powers weak, like a cancer patient in endless agony but unable to die.

Yet others still managed to retain a large portion of their powers, their priest hoods managing to mingle with the times despite the efforts of various BTB lackeys to commit priestly genocide, their worship changing to reflect society as it evolved but still retaining that kernel of true worship from the days of old.

Janus was part of the third category, his Domain of Change making him, and by extension his priesthood, able to see the way the wind was blowing, enabling them to hide, mingle and survive where others stood tall, strong and defiant, before being cut down like wheat before the scythe.

Sun Wukong, however, was a unique case. His legend was strong, almost universally known throughout the world due to widespread media. Songs and stories, plays and movies, these and many more were crafted, keeping him alive, keeping him strong and powerful even through the rise of Communism in his homeland, when many other cultural icons had fallen to their desire to wipe out the past.

But they did not worship him.

Idolise, yes. True Worship, no.

And without that worship, despite all his strength and power, all he could do, was watch, as the world spun on, humanity's path of self-destruction clearly seen by his ruby red eyes.

There was nothing worse for a warrior, than to raise a sword, only for it to have no meaning.

The early days of Separation had seen the rise of the Monkey King's rage, something not seen since the times of the 'Journey to the West', as the shock had worn off and Stone Monkey had finally understood the full extent of this decree.

It had made the Trojan war and the more recent World Wars seem like a water balloon fight as the Monkey had trashed and destroyed the realm of the BTB, destroying them as well, if they tried to face him.

The BTBs may have more Authority, given by the Creator herself, that allowed them to order around the Gods, but the Gods themselves had much more power, through the infinite power of collective dreams and beliefs of humanity.

But Authority meant little to a Hero, a Trickster.

Finally, after what seemed to be a century long tantrum, the Monkey King had merely looked at the fallen and crushed, but unable to die, BTB, contempt and hatred in his glaring red eyes.

_'My eyes,' _he had said, gesturing to the crimson orbs_, 'were created in a Celestial oven, along with the rest of my body, over the course of 49 days and 49 nights, in an attempt to kill me. In the end, I broke myself out, stronger than before, and my eyes could see evil, wherever it was, however it hid._

_'Tell me now, o worms, what do you think I see before me now?_'

He had then left without another word, going into seclusion, the last of his fires, the spirit of the Victorious Fighting Buddha, becoming mere embers to the wildfire it once had been.

The BTB had then been, very, very careful around the Monkey King from then on, not eager for a repeat performance.

It finally seemed, however, that his lack of worship was finally catching up to even the old Trickster.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Janus-Left, the more light and soft part of the entity called Janus, admitted sincerely, and he truly was. The old ape was one of the few contemporaries he still had among the Gods.

Not to mention the shared like of causing chaos and disruption for the BTB.

"I knew it was coming," the ape waved off, more dust falling, "I just wanted to do one last thing before I passed."

"And that is?" Asked Janus-Right, and eyebrow raised a little suspiciously.

Another odd look at the boy from the ape caused the Roman Deity to frown again. Maybe that thought hadn't been so stupid after all...

"This boy dressed as me you know," the ape said conversationally, never taking his intent ruby orbs off of the boy, as if memorising his features, "for Halloween. Not as Son Goku from Dragonball as most kids do these days, but as the true me, the real Monkey King instead of some cheap knock off."

"I know that," Right said impatiently, "what is the point?"

"Ummm, maybe-" Left said hesitantly in warning, before he was interrupted.

"I also know," a hand was suddenly thrust forward, a simian finger extended to just in front of the Roman's nose, despite the distance between them, "that _you_, empowered a spell on the boy, making him as if he was I during that night. Becoming me."

Janus looked down the suddenly long, long arm of the Chinese Hero, reputed to able lift over eight tons of weight like it was a feather, feeling that he may have just bitten off more than he could chew.

"The boy saw all of my memories," the simian Hero continued, never moving his eyes or finger from their positions, "my birth, my youthful days, my training, my adventures, even my imprisonment in the hand of Buddha and feeling the flames of the oven.

"And I, in turn, saw his."

The finger retracted into a dusty golden fist, clenched and cracking.

"What I saw," the voice was now soft and deadly, yet still retained a depth of affection Janus had never seen from the old monkey, "stirred my heart. Feelings of hatred and protectiveness, rage and love, bloomed in my breast for the first time in an age, not since my sons had passed on had I felt this."

Janus suddenly realised that those odd looks had not been for show. That they truly were what he had thought they had been.

The looks a father gave a precious child.

"I tracked the boy's progress, watching what he did after he had received my memories and was no longer driven by them as he had been during Halloween."

Sun Wukong's face smiled, the old air of mischievousness remerging after such a long time hidden and buried beneath the rage at the BTB.

"I couldn't have been prouder. Even without the natural skills my birth sons would have had, he acquitted himself as well as he was able, never giving up or giving in, and giving the BTB a headache similar to the ones gave the Jade Emperor," true laughter spilled from the ape's throat for the first time in a long time, joyous and full, "he was more like my self than any of my five birth sons were, without the arrogance that I once had."

The laughter and joy dimmed, the more familiar edge of ugly rage crossing his face, something that had dwelled there since the Separation.

"And now the BTB wants to take him away," a truly ferocious scowl crossed his face, suddenly looking more along the lines of an angry and protective wolf than the impish ape he was, "not this time."

"You can't stop the banishment," Janus said urgently, but carefully. He didn't want an angry warrior to fall on him like the wrath of Heaven over a misunderstanding, thank you very much, "the mage is using the captured power of the Key. Despite my power over the Doors, the best I can do is alter the destination, not stop it entirely."

"I know," the Ape said calmly, "and I am furious at myself at not noticing the danger before now, but what is done is done," he sighed heavily, his head bowed, "that's why I want you to hold this Space for a little longer while I do what I came here to do and then you do what you came to do."

Janus raised all his eyebrows in question, before all his eyes bugged out as the simian Hero began pulling items out of the silk bag he held.

A golden cap with a red feather, a set of sandals trimmed in green, a set of golden mail were drawn out and placed before the boy, making Janus gape at what he thought the old ape was doing.

He almost lost control of the Spacial Freezing spell as the last three items were drawn from the bag.

A long black staff with golden caps on either end, a set of slightly glowing purple rosary beads, numbering a 108 if Janus were a betting man, and a simple golden headband, the front of it curling like two monkey's tails.

Each of these items were named in legend and myth, the treasures of an age when human and God still walked side by side. They were the sacred items of the Monkey King, especially the staff.

At it seemed that they would all be given to the boy.

"Sun Wukong," asked Janus in shock, "what are-?" Janus froze at the next actions of the Ape King.

Squelch! Squelch!

With a sickening noise, and without even a whimper of pain, the ruby orbs of the Monkey King were torn from their sockets and carefully placed, without hesitation, on top the chain mail.

Janus had gone beyond shocked now, frozen in place as the Hero God tore himself apart.

And the the Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, wasn't finished.

The Chinese god's body rippled for an instant, shaking briefly and violently. The hair which he had used in his adventures to great effect, floated off his body, leaving him bald, and gathered into a bundle inside the rosary, three glints of gold were seen amongst the black by the horror struck four eyes of Janus.

What was this fool planning? The thought tore through the Roman's mind. This is mindless butchery and mutilation! It is almost like he is sacri...

...

Oh.

Eyes dawned bright in understanding, even as the Monkey King, blind and bald, dropped his knees before the boy, as if in prayer.

A slight smirk then covered both faces of the God of Beginnings and Endings. Well, this would certainly put a cat amongst the pigeons. Entertaining to watch though.

A soft mutter of prayers filled the dead quiet alley, as the Monkey King prepared the spell he knew, but had never used.

Blood of crimson and gold, floated from the destroyed sockets, glowing with power, and becoming a mist that slowly floated over to the boy still frozen and unaware boy, entering his mouth and nose. More blood flowed from the absent eyes, more glowing mist was created, more of it flowed into the boy's body, for several minutes as Janus watched with a slightly sad smile, sorrow, laughter and triumph present in that curl of the lips.

The muttering stopped abruptly, as the Monkey fell silent, his form flickering violently for a moment, before resolving back to solidity.

Abyss filled craters 'looked' up at the boy, as if still able to see him, a smirk of mischief and pride on the lips.

A Word was barked from the King, filled with Power and Authority, the air trembling beneath its strength.

As if commanded, the various items placed before the boy leapt up, even the red silk bag, hovering in the air, before glowing a burning gold light and shooting towards the boy, blinding even the Roman god.

"Was that really necessary?" Right complained as he blinked his eyes to adjust.

"Yes," the monkey's voice was more hoarse, weaker, than it had been, the now blind ape getting to his feet slowly and easily. It impressed the heck out of the Roman to see the endurance of this old ape. Blind, weak and Fading, he still looked like he could battle a whole Pantheon and come out on top.

It was rather humbling to be honest.

Janus glanced at the boy he had originally been ready to help, as was still going to once the whole thing was done, and was rather impressed.

He was mainly the same, even if the muscles were a bit more emphasised and was a few of inches taller, making him an even six foot six inches with a inch or two more to grow if the state of the body was any indication. The only major differences were the presence of the rosary around his neck, dropping to the heart area due to its length and the size of the beads, the state of his hair, still black as night but sticking up and bristling, Janus also thought he could faintly see a glint of gold somewhere in there, and lastly, the boy's eyes, brown and crimson chaotic swirling orbs that were rather disturbing, even to the God of chaos.

Janus thought the eyes alone would scare the living shit out of many of the monsters that still tread upon the Earth.

"Are you sure you made the right choice?" Right said seriously, frowning, "even if he does play on the side of angels, said angels may not be the most accepting of someone of his potential."

The Monkey King merely ignored him, looking at the one who had inherited his mantle, the heir of the Great Sage. His empty sockets seeming to see the boy and approve of what he saw.

"The choice has been made," a repeatedly flickering hand was extended, stroking the boy's face in the gesture of affection, "there is no going back."

A click of the dusty, almost vanishing fingers, and a small scroll, sealed in red wax with the stamp of the character for 'Monkey' impressed into it, appeared and was quickly tucked into the boy's pocket.

The Monkey King then moved away from the boy, backing off until his flickering form was directly beside the mage, his empty sockets conveying his rage as he looked at the mage briefly.

"You done?" Asked Janus, more out of form than anything else. He didn't see how anything else the old ape could top what he had just done.

At a nod, the Roman began to glow again, a short phrase of Latin was spoken, making the boy, the young Alexander, glow the same colour, before both glows vanished.

"There," Janus grunted, "that should keep the boy safe when he lands and alert my counterpart. He'll look in on the kid, give him a heads up and an introduction into the 'who's who and what's what' of the realm. If he's lucky, my counterpart may take him as a protege or something of that description."

"Good," the flickering Hero sighed tiredly, "good."

"We better go," the Roman suggested looking up suddenly, feeling something. A presence, like a hawk searching for its prey, "the BTB are starting to wonder why the kid isn't dead yet and are looking. They won't miss this bubble when they lock onto their lackey."

The Monkey King's face twisted in hate, despising the fools, before nodding in agreement...

And suddenly striking out at the mage, the Spacial Freezing spell doing little to stop his battle-trained hand from crushing his throat in a swift movement, then ambling up to a smirking Roman.

"You know that isn't going to do anything to stop the spell, you know?" Janus said as he glowed a brilliant hue.

"Maybe," the rapidly Fading Monkey King admitted, "but he dared to touch my son."

The Roman chuckled as a portal in the air opened, gesturing the King to go through first, "After you, o Monkey King," he said with a double smile.

"I am not the Monkey King," said Sun, as he walked through, leaving a trail of golden dust fall behind him. He glanced over his disappearing shoulder, darkness glimpsing the boy's brownish-red, "there is a new king now. I am merely as I was long ago, Shi Hou."

The monkey then passed into the portal, returning to the Realm Above.

But never reaching the other side.

Janus frowned sadly, feeling the force of an old friend disappear. Another friend lost to the decree of those fools and bastards.

"You heard your father, kid," he said to the oblivious boy, as he began to enter the portal, "your a King now, show them what you got when you get there," his feet entered the portal, rippling like a still lake from a thrown pebble.

"And keep up the good work," he said with a smirk as he began to disappear as well, "anything that gives those old hags a headache is good in my book."

These final words spoken, Janus stepped through portal, disappearing from the mortal realm, even as time started flowing once more.

The bolt of emerald green shot for the unknowingly changed boy, even as the mage stumbled back, choking and gasping for air that would not come, even as his body fell limp, unable to receive signals from the brain to tell it to move.

The former Monkey King's strike had done more than just crush the mage lackey's throat.

The last thing Xander saw before his world was consumed by emerald light, followed by a deep blackness of unconsciousness, was the confusing sight of the mage that had cast at him choking to death.

The mage saw the emerald flash and sudden disappearance of his target, making him grin slightly even as he died. He hoped the kid enjoyed Hell, cause that was where he was going. He had heard it had done wonders for a certain vampire with a soul, maybe it would do something similar to the kid?

His last breath, was a laugh that cleared his throat, distorted, before he expired, slightly satisfied.

Let us leave him to his delusions, shall we?

* * *

Far above, amongst the high clouds, hidden from the sight of mortals and immortals alike, beings that seemed made of light nodded in satisfaction, sensing the 'Disturbance' cease to be. Now they could focus on their plans, without that irritating boy interfering. They were already behind schedule with the chaos the boy had kicked up with his actions, now was the time to get it back of the proper track.

The Powers-That-Be would soon find that getting their 'Master Plan' back on track to be harder than they thought. Especially with a legacy of the young man they had killed left behind, in all it's brunette green eyed glory.

Not to be confused with the Goddess Glory.

Though damn if the legacy didn't have one a body to rival one, the Shadowy One she had dressed as only enhancing her features slightly. After all, Scathach, while a beautiful woman, almost without rival, was a warrior born and bred, and many a God had fallen to might, magical and melee.

Hate to be them right now, wouldn't you?

* * *

Xander groaned to himself as he groggily began to awaken, "what the Hellmouth hit me? And did I get the bastard who did the hitting?"

Xander looked around blearily, before slamming them open, clearing them abruptly, as realisation hit him like the front bumper of a speeding truck.

It was daytime, about mid-morning if he was any judge by the height on the sun. In the distance, from his place laying beneath a large tree, he could here the honks and roars of cars and trucks, making him think he was near a road, probably a highway.

It was most certainly not the alley he had been in, fighting several vamps, winning, and then fighting a damned mage, losing, and then being punished by supposedly being banished.

"Well," Xander said to himself, wondering what, in the name of all things Hostess, to do now, "Shit."

* * *

Well folks, how did you like this story idea?


	2. Wanderings

**The Californian Sage, Equaling Olympus**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Percy Jackson**

**Chapter 2: Wanderings**

It took only a minute for Xander to realise he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Not that he ever wanted to go to Kansas, he wasn't a big fan of fields and farming.

Watching 'Children of the Corn' with Willow on a dare when they were young(er) and impressionable had probably had something to do with that.

Either way, he knew he wasn't in his home world right now, and worse, if the bastard, who was now hopefully dead, was right, it was a one way trip. Considering the bastard didn't have any reason to lie, not when the truth could hurt more, he was willing to bet his bootstraps that he was telling the truth.

Xander wasn't one to cry much, having shed enough tears when Jesse had passed, and again when he had staked the monster wearing his face, but he could still feel sorrow. Sorrow and grief and helpless rage as he admitted there was no way home.

No more Willow, his bestest bud.

No more Buffy, a first crush and then a hero he could look up to and then a friend who he wished could see better days.

No more Giles, the father he never had, regretting to never tell him what he thought of him.

No more Jenny, an older sister/mother figure, a bond that only grown closer when he saved her life from Angelus.

Joyce, Dawn, Cordelia. The list could go on for quite a while. Even Angel would get a mention, if only to say he missed his favourite verbal punching bag.

What could he say, the putz made it so easy.

He could feel himself on the edge of a breakdown, his mental self wanting to go into a deep hole and hide for a while, whimpering and cowering like a dog. At least his old self would have.

The new him, one crafted from the memories of Halloween and the experiences thereafter, locked his emotions up tight, ignoring them until he was safe and secure.

"Right," he muttered to himself, "first thing; take an inventory."

One of the basic ways to survive in a strange place was to know what you had to work with. Your skills, your tools, your environment. All of these shaped how you would act, what you needed to do to continue to survive.

It came as a surprise to him though, that the first thing he noticed was an old-fashioned, red wax sealed scroll that he pulled from the pocket of his vivid Hawaiian shirt.

"What-?" He whispered in surprise, examining it at arms length like it was a strange poisonous snake.

The scroll was new, white and, unlike the Western version, created from little slips of wood instead of paper or parchment. It was a uniquely Asian design.

It probably helped that the seal of the scroll was impressed with the Chinese character for 'Monkey'.

This could mean many things to the young man, but he was honestly struggling to figure out whether it was good or not.

After a moments hesitation, Xander broke the seal and began to unroll it. It was thankfully a a short scroll, maybe a foot to a foot and a half in length, and was a hand scroll, which let him read it naturally like a backwards book or the latest manga from Shonen Jump.

It was a legacy of his Halloween experience, reading the book the 'correct' way, and had often found himself doing it unconsciously in the Library until he was to notice the slip and returned to normal, Western, reading.

A glimpse at the first few columns of characters had him thinking this was also a legacy of Halloween.

_To Alexander Lavelle Harris, _said the opening line_, also named, preferably, Xander, I bid you salutations and greetings._

An interesting start if the teen was left to wonder, showing a person who knew him well enough to say this. Even his teachers had called him either Alexander or Harris. Mostly Harris.

Not to mention it was oddly formal. 'Salutations and greetings' was not something you would use in an average letter, even to someone you didn't know, but respected. Even the Chases, when they still had the dough, were never that formal/stuck-up. But in Giles opinion, that was just because they were 'bloody Americans with no sense of proper decorum or manners'.

He might have been right on that.

_We have never met in person, but we each know each other. Better than we know ourselves, in point of fact. As you were one to never beat around the bush, or appreciate someone doing it to you, I will get to the point._

The next five words had Xander's gut turning to ice.

_My name is Sun Wukong._

Xander stared at those characters in disbelief, trying desperately to read them in another way that made sense. He failed dismally.

His hands shook as he continued reading. A message from a God?! Giles would have been going nuts.

_If you remember your Halloween, then you know who I am, what I am. I can speculate you even know me far better than I thought, with my memories surging through your mind._

Xander winced as a slew of memories, ones not his own, tried to bombard his mind all at once, before he figuratively slammed the door on them. The old monkey wasn't kidding, he did know this deity very well, or at least thought he did. The memories showed a lot about him that had never made the stories, the sheer amount of them had almost overwhelmed him when he had woken up from Halloween the next morning, fighting desperately to keep from reacting to Tony's jibes at him and Jessica's indifference to anything but the bottle of Jack's in front of her.

It had taken a week before Giles had managed to notice something wrong with him, despite his protests of 'I'm fine', and had dragged him to his office to have a private talk. After a minute in the office, he had come clean, trusting the only older male figure he had in his life.

He had never regretted it.

With a concerned Giles' help, his understanding of the magics used, knowledge of other spells that had similar mental consequences, mostly from seers who delved into the past and future, and experience with meditation coming in greatly handy, Xander was able, over the course of a few months, an impressive feat according to the Watcher, to manage to control and stem the flow and influences of the memories, while at the same time giving them an outlet, so they weren't constantly yanking on the mental leash, in the form of staff practice. A practical exercise that had strangely helped him to calm himself, gain experience with weapons (as was necessary for an aspiring demon hunter) and get himself fighting fit (yet another necessity) all in one little package.

With a little hand to hand, and other weapon's forms thrown in, it had built quite a camaraderie between the two males, who were keenly aware of the outnumbered status of their gender amongst the group.

For all the hectic fighting and pain filled nights, they were some the best days Xander had ever experienced.

He really missed them.

Eyes watering slightly, he turned back to the scroll.

_What you didn't know, was that, unlike the other victims of the spell, it was a two-way street._

_You got my memories. I got yours._

Xander froze again, shame filling his thoughts. What would a great Hero like Sun Wukong, the Great Sage, Equalling Heaven, think about his life. How he lived, how he thought.

What he thought about the stripes on his back, hidden by his clothes. About Tony and Jessica, not worth calling parents at all. About the days of sleeping on the roof, away from his so called family as they shouted, screamed and flailed at each other, breaking walls, doors, glasses and more.

Xander Harris was honestly scared.

_I have seen many things in my life, Xander, _the letter continued,_ but a more enduring soul, a more faithful and loyal soul, I have yet to meet._

_You have nothing to be ashamed of._

Xander couldn't help but feel a warm glow in his heart at those words. Though his gained knowledge, he knew Sun Wukong was a trickster of the first order, with a silver tongue to match his quick wits and enormous strength.

But, in his heart, he knew these words were sincere. Without flattery or exaggeration, the old monkey had written exactly what he meant.

_As I received your memories, and knowing your situation, I couldn't help but be curious. Who was this boy to have lived such a life? To have seen me, the true me, as a Hero, in this modern age?_

_And so, I watched._

Xander paused in his reading, a sense of trepidation filling him. What would the Monkey King make of what he had seen?

_I saw you make your decisions, the actions you took. Not all of them were unselfish, I admit, but I was no shining example of virtue myself, but you made your decisions based on two facts._

_My friends need to survive. The world needs to keep spinning._

_The end._

_Such simple thoughts, such simple goals. But they shined more gloriously in your Heart than any of those brain dead bimbos on the catwalk saying they wanted 'World Peace' with a beautiful empty smile._

_Good eye candy, but terrible conversationalists. Though Miss Jamaica had a decent set._

Xander flushed a little at the last line, though he did agree. Miss Jamaica did have a good set of assets. Emphasis on the 'ass'.

Probably why he had been rather attracted to Kendra and Ampata, their skin tone and body shape throwing his hormones back to that particular memory.

He hurried on.

_You kept yourself on that path. Trudging through mud and blood to keep that promise to yourself._

_It was one of the most inspiring things I had seen._

_A single boy -no, a young man- protecting his friends, stronger, faster and more powerful friends, as best as he was able, no matter the cost to himself._

_You protected Janna, near killing yourself in the process, when Angelus came for her._

_You helped Kendra, when you could have sought vengeance._

_Surprisingly, you even turned down Faith when she offered to 'bunk' with you, gaining her respect and trust in the process, preventing her from going to the Mayor._

_I have to admit, I don't think I would have had the same control if she had made the offer to me._

_Though I still have the right, as a friend of the male gender, to bash you over the head for letting that one go._

Xander raised an eyebrow, before he felt like something had whacked his head, knocking him face forward into the dirt, still managing to somehow hold onto the scroll.

Ow.

Xander grumbled wordlessly as he managed to sit back up, rubbing his head with one hand as he unrolled the scroll with another.

But you still stayed true to your course.

It is praiseworthy, maybe even legendary.

And it made you a target.

Xander frowned. The mage had inferred that he had been targeted, and even some of the actions that had lead to it. But he didn't know why.

Perhaps this scroll would give him the answers.

To understand, we must go years back. Centuries and millennia.

Back to the time of Separation.

Xander frowned. He knew the term, it had been some the books in the library and Giles had been quite verbose on the subject when asked.

It was basically the time when the Old Gods, those of sects that were not Christian, departed from the world. Living in the Realm Above and unable to affect or walk upon the mortal realm unless called. Supposedly, it was so that the human race could advance at its own pace, achieving its full potential without interference.

Giles, a rebel on the subject, and by extension Xander, had been greatly skeptical, but it was still the official theory put forth by the Watcher's Council and thus taught to every prospective Watcher that entered the Council's doors.

Xander had a feeling Giles' theory would be born out.

_With the departing of the Old Gods, it was open season for influence over the human race._

_Something that PTB, or rather the Bastards-That-Be, took advantage of, using Christianity as their stalking horse._

Xander nodded grimly. The date of the Separation had never been truly pinned down, but it was known that Christianity, in all its denominations, had received an impressive upswing in power at about the same time. Their icons and symbols receiving the power to ward off demons and others of that ilk far more effectively than other religious groups.

If the PTB, or BTB, were behind the Separation, it made sense that they would seize hold of the vacuum of mystical might. Xander had a feeling he would not like the consequences of this.

_Their beliefs were not very popular, believing that the ends justified any means. Something even the more ruthless and blood thirsty of Gods had pulled up on._

_The end goal was just as despicable. Complete Balance._

Xander thought for a moment, before paling at the implications.

Giles had hammered into his head that there was no such thing as True or Complete Balance. There was no black and white in this strange world, only the endless shades of grey. True Balance, static balance, could only realistically be achieved with one thing.

There was nothing left to balance.

The complete and utter eradication of life.

Xander was never going to be party to genocide, and would tear down all who even had the thought that it was a good idea. It was one of the reasons Dead-Boy had a white streak in his hair, when he had gone to decapitate him during the Acathla incident only for him to dodge at the last moment and slice into his skull instead.

Thankfully, Buffy was able to come to her senses in time to fight Angelus before the vampire had succeeded in marmaladising him.

He still got a fair few broken bones though. Damn vampire speed and strength. His skills hadn't been too shabby either.

_They thought that if everything was Balanced, then they could control everything, and everything would be at peace._

_They call themselves Bringers of Peace._

_I call them Murdering Genocidal Pieces of Shit._

_Either way, they set up their plans. Using foresight, they were able to track the various paths to the future that would lead to their ultimate goal, planting prophecies in the heads of seers to ensure that the humans, now so open to their influence, would do some of the leg work for them._

Xander snorted. Typical, the big wigs never want to get their hands dirty or they might break a nail.

_One of the prophecies mentioned was in the Pergamum Codex._

Xander groaned as he saw what was coming. The mage had mentioned it, the old ape merely confirmed it.

Guess the White Hats weren't all that white.

_With your disruption of their little plans, you became a part of the problem in their view._

_A problem that they would try to remove at earliest opportunity._

_Thankfully for you, their influence on the Hellmouth is limited to their Champions, their pawns, alone. Something about conflicting energies or some other rot. In either case, you were safe from their attempts as long as you were within the Hellmouth's sphere of influence and they would have trouble seeing you, spying on you, directly due to it._

_Coincidentally, this extends all the way to just past Oxnard, probably why it took so long for them to send out their lackey._

Xander frowned. He knew he had been a bit of demon magnet, but now it seemed that there was a valid that he was.

If he only knew. Xander was only half-right. The BTBs did play a part in the demon attraction department, but his status as a Fell had done most it.

_Thus, due to their inability to act, they could only watch as you shot down plan after plan of theirs. Even worse, you never did it deliberately, only thinking to save your friends._

_I doff my hat to your incredible luck and sheer skill at pissing them off. Single handedly, you have advanced humanity away from their influence more than any other single human has ever done before with your disruption of their plans._

Xander flushed a little, shifting uncomfortably. He wasn't use to receiving compliments, especially not from people that, despite the memories, he barely knew.

_As you can understand, when you left the Hellmouth, they were quite eager to have your head on a pike. Thankfully, it took them a month to find you and send out the assassins.  
Just as thankfully, you were able to use the memories of me to defend yourself and involuntarily call upon the fragmentary vestiges of Janus' power that lingered on you to do so._

_This drew the Old God's attention, allowing him to step foot on the Earth for the first time in ages, just in time to save your butt._

Xander's breath left him in a rush. He didn't know how he would do it, but would repay that Old God back. Big time.

_Unfortunately, he didn't arrive in time to stop the spell being cast. Despite being a powerful god, there are still Laws and Powers that even he will not use with. The power the mage had stolen from the Monks of Dagon was one such thing._

_He couldn't stop it and he owed you a favour due to your continued denial to tow the BTBs party line and influence others to do the same, so he did the next best thing._

_Instead of landing in a disreputable hellhole dimension, he placed you where you are now._

Xander corrected himself. He owed the Roman rebel big, big time.

_Before he could do that though, I arrived._

_Despite not having an invitation of some variety to manifest on Earth, I am not a true God. Before all else, I am a Trickster, a Hero. This gives me a huge amount of leeway in regards to the Separation Laws._

_I had just never felt like exercising them, too lost in my depression at what the Separation would eventually bring about._

_But then you came along._

_Your belief, your drive, all of these burned brightly, out shining even the sun itself in my eyes._

_And the BTB wanted to forever extinguish that spark._

_I was not going to let that happen._

Xander retread the line, wondering if he had read it wrong. He hadn't.

A God had come down for the express purpose of saving him? The Twilight Zone suddenly seemed to be far closer than he had thought, and he lived in Sunnydale, the Home of Weirdness!

_I knew that what Janus was going to do was the best option, no other power, mortal or immortal, could have anything different._

_But I wasn't going to let you go alone and unarmed._

_Another part of the reason I descended was because of one simple truth. A truth that I had been holding back for a long time._

_I was Fading._

Xander started. Fading? Wasn't that what Giles had called an immortal's death? Xander was suddenly filled with sorrow, knowing that this Hero, one who he admired, was now dead, gone.

Forgotten.

Rigidly, he kepi reading, not wanting to stain the Monkey King's last words, his final sacrifice.

_You know what that means Xander but don't be sad._

_I had a long life, full of adventure, and it was now my time to pass. Perhaps, when I rejoin the Earth Mother, I will see my friends again. Sandy, Pigsy, Tripitaka, even that old horse-dragon Yulong. It will be good to see them again._

_But I had one final thing to do before I passed._

_I needed to take a successor._

Xander looked at the scroll in disbelief, and mounting confusion, even as his mind refused to make the logical leap.

_I wanted someone who was persistent. Who was loyal. Who had the potential to walk as I had, amongst Men and God, and treating them the same._

_Having seen your life, from beginning to end, is it any wonder I chose you?_

Xander's mouth gaped wide and his eyes bugged out. He still didn't believe.

_If I know you, and I do, then you probably can't believe these words I have written._

_If I had had the chance, your sire and dame would be receiving a warm welcome in the afterlife by now._

_But believe me kid, for I tell no lie, you are my successor._

_My treasures, my powers, my wealth, my skill and my memories, which you already have, are now yours._

_If you still don't believe, there is red silk bag at your waist. Put a hand in it and wish for a hand mirror._

Xander, in a daze, looked to his waist, which seemed smaller than it should have, a saw the bag. A plain red silk draw string bag. Reaching out with a hand, which also smaller than it should, more...childish... in fact, he pushed it into the open mouth and thought.

The image of simple hand mirror, one of those old wooden ones with a circular surface and a varnished handle and backing came to mind. Feeling something suddenly touch his hand in the now not-so-empty bag, he grasped it and pulled it out.

Revealing a hand mirror exactly like he had pictured.

This revelation was only small potatoes compared to what he saw in the clear surface.

The face looked like him. The same nose and cheeks, the slight curl of the lips. It looked exactly like him.

If he was only twelve years old.

Somehow, he had been deaged. Meaning that something had happened and, more importantly to his dreading mind, he would have to _go through **PUBERTY** all over again!_!

Oh, and his eyes instead of the normal brown were chaotic swirls of vivid crimson and earthen brown, and his black hair was now naturally spiky instead of flat and disheveled like he normally had been.

But that wasn't important. He had to go through **PUBERTY** again. It was hell going through it the first time. Xander was willing to bet that the second time would be even worse!

Xander picked up the scroll with a feral growl after he placed the mirror back in the pouch. If he ever met the old ape again, then there will be hell to pay. In dividends.

As he started to read again, a sudden green glow of words appeared above scroll. In Latin.

Xander frowned. He knew how to read Latin and Ancient Greek, even speak it like a native, thanks to Giles' collective tutoring of the Scoobies so they could actually be of help to the Watcher when researching, rather than a hindrance.

What he read managed to annoy him even further.

_Don't hate the player, hate the game. Signed Janus._

Xander sighed as he put the dots together. Janus was the one responsible for the deaging, not the Monkey King.

Well, that means he now only owes the Roman prankster a kick in the ass.

The message vanished and Xander kept reading the scroll, grumbling under his breath about 'Roman morons' and 'two-faced deceivers'.

_As you can see, you are quite different than how you were. This is because I did something that hadn't been done by any except for the Dioscuri._

_I shared my essence, the primal force of my existence, with you._

Xander's widened again. He may as well keep them wide if the shocks just kept coming.

_This, in effect, changed your body, reshaping it to fit the essence it now contains._

_Congratulations, you are now a demi-god._

_And I am your father._

And they did.

Xander just froze, rereading those last five words, over and over, trying to make sense of it all.

Him? The son of the Monkey King?! That's it! Stop the ride, he wanted off!

But the letter still wasn't done. With care, Xander continued to read, his hands shaking almost violently.

_I may have done this without your consent, and for that I am sorry, but I thought it may have been the greatest, and only, gift I could give you. Especially with the sand in my own hourglass of life running out._

_You will need the gifts I gave you to survive in the world Janus had chosen. Monsters walk in human skin, just like Sunnydale. So be prepared._

Xander nodded grimly. Be prepared. Two simple words and an equally simple truth. But they were no less important and crucial than any other advice that could be given.

_I have to hurry this letter along now, time is running out, so a few last pieces of advice and instructions._

_First, never lose the red silk bag. It is a portal to a linked sub-dimension that contains all the smaller treasures I have gathered over my life. Gold, jewels, rolls of quality silk and expensive clothing and other items that can be sold for local currency. There is a huge amount, but is finite, so be careful what you spend. Placing a hand on the outside of the bag will send an inventory of the contents straight to your mind. Place a hand in it and think of an object within, and you will be able to draw it out, even if it is a full length mirror or a complete wardrobe._

_Incidentally, you can also place anything within it, even a car if you need to, and you can draw it out again later._

Xander raised an eyebrow, looking at the deceptively simple silk bag. An actual Bag of Holding? Hope WOTC doesn't find out or the copyright law suit following would be enormous.

_Second, everything that I could do, you can do and thus are capable of performing all the tricks and spells I could, despite you not being able to after Halloween, even my magic hair abilities. But it will be a little toned down. You will notice the rosary around your neck._

_Don't take it off._

_It holds back the majority of the power I gave you, allowing you to grow into it safely. Too much power at once, and you would have exploded from trying to contain it all. In time, as you train and get stronger, more of the power will be released, thus making you more powerful._

_However, considering that there are dangers in that world that are powerful and perilous, I included a failsafe. You can remove the rosary, allowing you to access far more power than you normally could, but your body will pay the price, almost destroying itself from the strain. The rosary can only be removed for five minutes, before it automatically returns and locks, and cannot be taken off for another three days to a week, just long enough for you to fully recover._

_My suggestion, again, don't take it off._

Xander felt his heart lift in joy. One of the few things he had been sad about was being unable to use the Monkey King's spells after Halloween. They could have been incredibly useful and powerful. And now he had the capability!

This joy was tempered by the caution of the mentioned dangers. Not to mention the dangers of removing the rosary. A glimpse under his shirt revealed the purple beaded necklace, each bead glowing a soft violet light, filled with suppressed power. He felt for the clasp, finding it at the back of his neck. It was one of those simple pressure pull ones. Squeeze the clasp and pull hard and the necklace came undone.

He wouldn't be doing that unless everything went to Hell.

Still, he would have to train for a while, see what the actual extent of his skills were at present. An excited grin crossed his face. That should be fun!

_My major treasures are also with you. My staff, cap, sandals, chain mail, even the damnable crown that had given me such a headache over the years._

_To call them, merely think of them and they will appear in your hands, ready to be used. Though the staff is actually where I usually put it in any case._

Xander thought for a moment, before understanding dawned and one of his hands whipped up to his right ear, searching and feeling for something.

There! Something small and hard sitting just behind his ear.

He grasped it and brought it in front of him, peering closely. It seemed like a black needle, though it seemed made of wood with golden tips.

Xander smiled slightly and suddenly spun it with a twitch of his fingers, sending his will into the little object like the monkey's memories had shown him, the picture of the staff in it's true form firmly in mind.

Less than a moment later, Xander was staring with wonder at the true form of Ruyi Jingu Bang as he held it in one hand. It was difficult to do so, due to its weight, but he still managed it. He hefted it a little, feeling the resistance and awkwardness of the movement. The fact that he could even lift the actual metal stave impressed the crap out of him and highlighted how much he had truly changed.

He wouldn't be able to use it in combat effectively just yet, but given a fair bit of training and experience, it would serve him just as well as it had the Monkey King.

Another surge of his will and the now confirmed to be metal needle was back and replaced behind his ear.

_Thirdly, and this is very important, trust your eyes. When I went through the ritual, I gave up everything that I was to you, my power, my treasure, my body, my hair. Even my eyes._

_In this world, one that is both similar and different, these eyes will lead you true. Showing truth from lies, man from God or Monster, good from evil, even how evil someone is, able to see into the distance, beyond the horizon if you so desired. Be careful how you do so, however, as despite the fact you are, in the eyes of the world, my son, you still have some of the limitations because of your mortal blood. Using those eyes to see into the far far distance will flood your still mortal mind with information, sometimes too much of it, and lead to the brain overloading._

_I did not accept you as my son just so you could become a vegetable because of a foolish mistake._

Xander whistled lowly. Okay, mental note; use Farsight as little as possible. Until I can get a handle on it anyway.

Though the fact that Sun Wukong had sacrificed his eyes to him was beyond humbling. He honestly couldn't get his head around that the old ape had done so much for him. Suffered so much for him.

The writing was a little bit more faded now, more sloppy, as if the writer was hurried.

_My last piece of advice, is to travel. Explore this world and all the wonders contained within it. Face the greatest of foes and make the sturdiest of allies. Make your mark upon history, just as I did._

_You are the son of the Great Sage, Equalling Heaven. You will grow to reach my level of power, this I know, but I also know, that you have the potential to surpass it, if you take that journey, if you choose that path._

_This is my final wish, my last request. Reach for the stars, my son, higher than even I. Continue striving for whatever goal you have set yourself, achieve it, and then make a new goal, in a never ending quest._

_And always remember, even if I am dead and gone, even if I am Faded and forgotten, I will still watch over you. Through victory and defeat, grief and sorrow, happiness and joy, through war and peace, I will always see you._

_And smile with pride, knowing that you are my legacy, my heir._

_My son._

_With sincere regards, and loving hope,  
Your father,  
Sun Wukong._

Xander looked at those final words, feeling the sincerity behind them, almost overwhelming his now prepubescent mind.

He carefully, reverently, rerolled the scroll, the scroll that was now his most treasured possession, from a father he never knew, but who trusted him with everything he had, and placed it in the red silk bag, a treasure beyond even the greatest of jewels, more precious than any of the gold, contained within.

He raised his face to the sky, tears falling freely from his swirling eyes, and howled.

In grief, in anger, in joy and in sorrow, the voice was filled with a gamut of emotions as the child, who was formerly a young man, let out his emotions, his heart pouring freely from his mouth and eyes.

This continued until nightfall, the sounds echoing off the hills, barely audible over the sounds cars and trucks from the nearby highway.

Exhausted, his heart and mind and body tired and wrung out, the boy had then fallen asleep.

Dreaming of better days.

* * *

It was the dead of night when Xander awoke again, his trained senses informing him that something was approaching.

Something powerful.

Eyes that were now as red as rubies, hard as diamonds, snapped open, peering into the night, unhindered by the lack of light, as blood and adrenaline surged through the boys veins.

Cutting through the forest, darkness blanketing it all, the form of a blindingly white toga wearing man, taller than most, was easily seen as he walked down what seemed to be a game trail. The branches and leaves parted before him, never allowing themselves to touch him, as he ambled forward. The silver chain necklace, complete with a key like decoration was one of the few things all stood out about him.

As was the fact he had two faces.

As the being moved toward the surprised boy, only one eye on each face could be seen, the faces turned directly right or left preventing Xander from seeing the complete features of either face.

He was also easily identifiable by anyone who had studied, even a little bit, into the myth and lore of Rome.

"So you're the one that was sent," the left face of Janus spoke as it came, its visible eye narrowed before snorting softly, "you don't look like much."

"Be nice," the right spoke, admonishing itself/brother, "even the roughest of men can become kings in time."

Left snorted again, but said nothing else. By this time, Janus was now standing in front of a wary and battle ready boy, his fingers itching to draw the staff from his ear, but knowing that it was better to use his more experienced hands at this moment.

"Calm yourself, kid," the right said calmly, holding up both hands in the universal gesture of peace, "I mean no harm to you."

"Unless you want us to," Left said with a devilish half-grin, before being thwacked by the hand of Right, "Ow!" Left complained, his own hand rising to rub half of his now stinging face, "was that necessary?"

"For now, yes, it was," Right said with aplomb, "your inciting antics are not needed at this time Left," Right seemed to glare at Left, despite the impossibility of it all.

Left subsided with a grunt, visibly pouting and sulking.

Xander had to withhold a chuckle and relaxed a little. It was like watching Abbot and Costello act with these two.

Still, it was time to break out the manners Jenny and Joyce had pounded into him.

"Lord Janus," he said with a small bow, drawing the two faced god's attention, "what can I do for you?"

Rule one for a mortal when dealing with gods: respect them and be polite and they may not smite you out of hand.

He had no desire to be smited Xander anytime soon.

"Rather polite," Right remarked, eying the boy speculatively, "not what I was expecting."

"Your a God," responded Xander wryly, "with a Capital G. I'd really rather not be erased from existence in a fit of pique just because my tongue got away from me."

"Smart and a dry sense of humour as well," Left remarked approvingly, "you may not be a waste of my time after all."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Xander said with a sigh. It looks like Sun Wukong was the odd one out of the bunch in regards to deities. "Still, the question still stands: How can I help you?"

"It is more how I can help you," Right admitted, "when our counterpart in your birth dimension shifted the destination of the banishment, he also left a message for us embedded in your power, which was released to find us when you first arrived."

"Okay," Xander grunted grudgingly, "that just means I won't try to kick his ass if I ever meet him again."

"Oh," Left said with a slight grin, sensing juicy stories, "do tell?"

"He deaged me," Xander said flatly, looking a devilish Left in the eye, "I had just graduated high school at the proper age, leaving teenage woes and worries behind. But now," Xander gritted his teeth in anger and suppressed rage, hissing out his words, "I have to go through PUBERTY all over again,"

The two faces of Janus leaned back at the venom in the boy's tone, sympathy in the eye of Right even as Left roared with laughter.

Bastard.

"I see.." Right said with a wince over the hysterical laughter of Left, "Unfortunately, that isn't something I can fix. Not easily, anyway."

Xander nodded in understanding, his spiky hair wilting like dead plants in sorrow and horror and his uncurled tail dragging limply on the ground.

Right glanced at the tail for only a moment in surprise before he began speaking again as Left began to subside, "The message pretty much told us to give you a run down on this world. The major players, the high rollers and how it all works."

"Thank you, my lord," Xander said gratefully. He wasn't a fan of going into things blind, there were too many ways for something to go wrong and for someone to end up dead, "the information will be gratefully received."

"No thanks are necessary," Right said airily, with a dismissive wave, "I owed my counterpart a favour, this is just paying it off and letting you benefit from it."

Left then jumped in, his chuckling finally out of his system, "First thing you have to know, is that the Greek gods are still around, walking the Earth, doing what they have done for millennia..."

The next few hours, leading up to dawn, were spent in serious discussion of the state of the world, spinning Xander's mind.

Gods with MPD. Monsters roaming freely. Demi-gods still being born. The Gods making their home right on top of the Empire State Building. This 'Mist' that was able to cloud the perception of mortals in regards to the supernatural. Demi-gods being sent to camps to train, depending on if they were Roman or Greek.

It was heady stuff for the Californian native. But not something he wasn't use to. His world had been rocked twice before. Once with the turning of Jesse before he had killed him, and another when Halloween had rolled around.

This was no different.

As Janus came to an end with his talking, he looked at the boy, his face serious and scrunched in thought, contemplating his place in the world and the choices he would have to make going forward.

"Penny for 'em, kid?" asked Left.

Xander stirred himself from his deep thoughts, "Just thinking what I should do. The choices I should make."

Both faces of Janus twitched at the word, unseen by the son of the Monkey King. Choices were his domain. Sly eyes cut toward the strange demi-god. Perhaps a little test?

"The way I see it," said Left casually, "you have two options. One, you can head up north toward New York and attend Camp Half-Blood. Your personality is wild enough for you to fit in amongst the Greeks and Chiron is almost without peer when it comes to training the young and heroic. Though I think he may have a little trouble with you, your heritage and range of your possible abilities making it difficult for him to bring out your full potential. Not to mention the Gods generally pay more attention to that particular camp than the Roman's one, meaning you will get found out sooner or later. Probably sooner, considering The Lord of Wine is in residence there, and I am unsure of what their reactions will be. Aside from the usual paranoia from the Sky Lord."

"On the other hand," Right addressed the pensive monkey boy, "you can choose to go to Camp Jupiter. It is not only much closer to you now, meaning you wouldn't have to trek across three quarters of the country, fending off monsters that your strong scent will attract in droves, just to go to Camp. Lupa is also very skilled at bringing out the potential of her students and is far more warlike than Chiron could every be. It is a far more war ready camp that will probably appeal to your battle-born nature and the Gods rarely set foot there, taking a more hands-off and distant approach to the Romans. That said, they are far more rigid, more set in their ways, and would resist and actively try to keep a lid on your free spirit, enforcing iron discipline. They are also ones to kill first, think later if they deem something a threat, whether or not it actually is one. One with your power and unknown heritage? You could almost guarantee to be carefully, but secretly, monitored and have battle plans drawn up in case they have to fight you."

"These are your choices," both faces said in unison at the now daunted young man, "what will you choose?"

Xander lowered his head in thought. Each of them had their pros and cons. If he wanted to be a warrior, then Jupiter would be the place to go, their beliefs of discipline and ruthlessness, combined with his own growing power, would make him a formidable foe for anyone who faced him. However, they would choke his free spirit, making him feel like he was in a cage of steel, and most probably wouldn't hesitate to kill him if ordered to by their superiors. He was chaos to their order, something they wouldn't tolerate.

If he wanted to be a Hero, then the Greeks would be a welcome sight. Their free-spirited way of life appealed to the son of Sun Wukong and, as Janus had said, Chiron was without peer in regards to teaching. However, he had a feeling they wouldn't be able to take his skills to levels he needed, he wanted, to attain and were far too close to the Gods who were known to mercurial at best. If he was Sun Wukong, he would have fit in there, but he wasn't Sun Wukong. He may have the memories, he may have the powers, Hell, he even had his blood.

But he wasn't him.

He was his own man, willing to make his decisions, his own mistakes, and was willing to live with the consequences.

It was a hard decision, and not one made lightly, but the some of the words that his Father had written came to mind, affirming his decision. He almost thought he could the callused hand of the Monkey King ruffling his hair, ruby eyes looking down at him in approval as his laughing lips quirked up in a smile as he made his decision, his choice.

Looking firmly at Janus, their eyes locked.

"You have made your decision?" Right asked neutrally, his anticipation hidden, wondering if this boy was the right one. The one that was needed.

"I have," Xander affirmed with a nod, his red eyes never leaving the softly glowing ones of the deity.

"And?" Left drawled, as if uninterested.

"I choose neither," Xander said firmly, leaving no misunderstanding.

Janus, both sides, glared at the boy, divine energy flaring, "Why say that?" Left growled lowly, "That is not one of the choices, boy. It is Jupiter of Half-Blood, Greek or Roman. Nothing else."

"Choose!" demanded Right in agreement, increasing the his power output, trying to force the boy to his knees from the pressure.

Xander was unmoved.

"My mentor, Rupert Giles, once said that 'nothing is black and white," answered the young demi-god, "only endless shades of grey'. This applies to choices as well. There is not just right or wrong, left or right. There is the path between, the path unwalked because eyes remain blind to the possibilities," Xander's own power began reacting to his emotions, flowing out of him as it invisibly battle the divine aura of the Roman, "I dare to travel that path, to seek the solution that none have imagined. And travel is what I will do. Free and unchained. Helping and hindering where I may, whether they be Greek or Roman, Mortal or God, Spirit or Monster.

"This is my belief. This is my path and if you wish to shift me from it?"

Xander's aura suddenly became visible, a blinding blue light that filled the clearing, pushing back Janus' divine aura and making him blink. When his eyes opened once more, Janus was met by a sight.

Despite looking little more than twelve years old, albeit a toned and muscular one, the boy cut an intimidating sight.

Golden chain mail, in a design foreign to the Roman, clung tightly to the toned torso, emphasising the muscled uncovered biceps, silk pants, tied at the ankles and waist ballooned around his legs, his feet were shod in golden sandals that were trimmed with green, standing atop a small cloud. A golden cap, with a red feather threaded through through top, cast a shadow over vividly glowing and diamond hard ruby red eyes that glared him down. A black metal stave, with golden end caps, was held in his hand and resting on his shoulder, casually but ready to use at a moments notice. His face was also set in scowl that was truly ferocious, elongated canines slightly bared, giving him a more primal, more animalistic presence. His tail and hair stood erect and bristling, a warning and a challenge.

This was the presence of a warrior. One that wouldn't hesitate to fight him, even kill him, if the God pushed too far.

"Then come make me," the boy growled, low and feral, "and I will rip off your legs and hang them from your neck as proof of your epic failure."

Janus, as a whole, couldn't help but blink at the words the boy had said, to his face no less. He had dared to threaten a God with death?! His mind could barely process it for a minute, before his mind finally comprehended it and reacted.

Xander, ready to fight, kill and die, could only stare in disbelief as the Roman deity fell foward and howled in laughter. Deep, rich and booming laughs filled with honest merriment and joy, with a slice of satisfaction joining in for the party.

"Hahahahaha!" Both faces roared, "do you- hahaha- h-have any I-hehehe-idea how l-long I have w-waited for an a-a-answer like that? Hahaha!"

Xander frowned, relaxing and powering down as bewilderment began to take over, "what do you mean?" The boy snapped in irritation, not seeing what was so funny. He had just threatened to kill him for heaven's sake.

The hilarity slowly subsided enough for the Roman to explain, "you see, kiddo," began Left, laughter still in his eyes, "when people see me, my two faces, they see choice. White and black, good and evil. A scale of balance that applies to the world as a whole. Everyone _knows_ that their is an opposite, and that they are in the right and are righteous, creating the whole 'us versus them' mentality."

"Meaning," Right continued, "that there is only one correct choice. Nothing could be further from the truth."

"What was it that song had said," Left said idly, " 'one man's pleasure is another man's pain, one man's loss is another man's gain', I think. Choice is all about perspective. What is right for one is wrong for another."

"But people don't see that," Right jumped in, "and refuse to believe that there is another option, that their enemy is just the same as they are, making their choices according to their own goals. Even Gods aren't immune to this."

"Except for Hecate," Left interjected, his eye cast around warily, as if expecting the Goddess to jump out of nowhere.

"Except for her," Right agreed, "she understands choice just as much as we do."

"And as do you," Left pointed at the young man, "we have given this choice to many, watching them as they go on their way after having done so, their choices leading to their own demise, as they sacrificed whatever was on the path they didn't choose, which may have helped them. But you saw something else, the hidden path. The path unknown and yet will fulfill all of your goals, without sacrificing."

"Instead of choosing the easy paths," Right said with a soft smile, "the paths that lead to victory through war and blood. You chose the harder path, the one unseen, the endless path. The one that leads to peace."

Janus abruptly stood, towering above the befuddled and confused young man, and began to glow, making the boy avert his eyes, "you have chosen well, boy, and in reward I offer this."

A sheaf of papers suddenly appeared in the boy's hands.

"These papers give what you do not have. A place to call your own, a place to rest after your journeys. This is a deed and ownership papers for a large property in Wyoming. Forests, mountains, lakes, the whole shebang and a little cabin you can take a rest in. The papers also contain emancipation papers."

Janus then drew the silver key from his necklace and thrust it into mid-air with a loud click, just as the sun began rise, bathing the god in its golden splendour.

"You have earned my respect, kid," the voices were now one, "I eagerly look to see what chaos you can stir up as you walk your path."

The last words spoken, Janus twisted the key, and vanished.

Leaving no trace of him even being there, except for the papers Xander held in his hands.

Xander stared at the empty space that had once been filled with the presence of a god. Shaking his head, his clothes returned to normal, his Hawaiian shirt and jeans on full display and started his trek onwards, towards the future, after having tucked away the precious papers.

He would look in on the property when he had the chance, for now though, he had a world to explore.

Fearlessly, he trudged towards the sun and the adventures that awaited him.

* * *

It had been a year since Xander had appeared in this realm. He had travelled quite a distance, criss-crossing the great land of America on foot as his divine progenitor had once done on his journey with Tripitaka.

It had been hard at first, his warrior training with Giles, despite having great elements of endurance within it, doing little for a young man who wasn't use to walking from sunrise to sunset. But he had pulled through easily enough, the memories of his Father (someone far more worthy of the title than Tony had ever been) aiding him, as well as his enhanced body.

He saw many wonders. The Grand Canyon. Yosemite. The Everglades. Even drifting up to the border to see Niagra Falls.

All the while, he spent a portion of his time dodging or fighting monsters, spirits, thugs and truancy officers.

Pathetically easy for the latter two. The former two, not so much.

Especially when said beings tend to either overreact to, or misinterpret, the actions of this young man.

Case in point, a certain incident in Lexington, Kentucky.

**FLASHBACK**

_Crash!_

_That was the sound of a previously airborne crate meeting the solid steel wall of the warehouse, shattering into splinters as it did so._

_"I said I was sorry," a young male voice called desperately, it's owner diving low under a conveyor belt as another crate was sent whistling for his skull._

_Crash!_

_"Not go-oo-oo-od enough!" a female voice, pissed and angry, yelled at the cowering male, almost seeming to neigh like a horse in anger._

_The sound of metal screeching, being torn from it's moorings in protest, made the male pale heavily, and desperately focus._

_An image appeared in his mind. Four splayed legs, round rubbery discs on the toes, wide golden eyes and a tongue that could reach out and lick them. As well as a tail, couldn't forget the tail._

_The image firmly in mind, the young man exerted his will._

_And **changed**._

_One moment, there was a black haired youth, barely even in their teens, cowering beneath a factory conveyor belt in a shipping warehouse, and in the next..._

_The roar of equine anger filled the air as the other conveyor belt was brought down with an almighty crash and boom, like the smiting of a god's hammer, crushing any and all beneath it._

_A tall statured being, perhaps seven feet tall if you include the pricked up ears, breathed hard, her chest rising and falling like a bellows, making an intriguing sight for anyone who would have passed by. The clopping of hooves could be heard as she approached the area she had crushed beneath her strength, brown eyes intent on making sure the perverted little imp got his just desserts._

_A firm kick of her hoofed feet launched the majority of the debris away, revealing a sight that made her almost growl in rage, her white hair bristling in anger._

_The boy was gone. That little imp had vanished!_

_Before she could blow a gasket, the thunder of hooves was heard, shaking the concrete on which she stood on her two hooves._

_Ah! Some help for her to deliver righteous justice on the male who had dared to touch her on her well proportioned rump._

_"Sister!" a thundering voice called, recognisable immediately to the young woman._

_"Brother!" she called in return, turning away from the debris and facing the entrance to the warehouse, where a herd of her kin gathered, all proudly wearing their 'Kentucky Kicks Ass', 'Unbridled Spirit' or 'It's just that friendly' T-shirts._

_Though with the latter showing a horses hind end, things could be taken out of context._

_"Don't ever gallop off like that again," her overprotective black haired brother, easily eight feet tall, admonished her as he approached, the rest of her herd smirking at her._

_Traitors._

_"Who knows what could have happened to you. Maybe the butcher needed new sausages? Or the glue factory might have needed a bit more hoof?"_

_She felt herself wilt, ashamed, beneath the onslaught of his worrying. She knew she had broken the rules to never be alone, but the boy had deserved a good beating!_

_As the herd of Ipotanes watched with amusement as their lead stallion dress down his younger sister, out of the crushed debris, crept a small lizard, a gecko in fact, that took one brief look at the imposing shapes of the half-horse, half-human cousins of the centaurs..._

_And scarpered out of there as fast as his little reptilian legs could carry him, resolving to never, ever, **ever**, join a congo line, filled with overly sensitive female horses, again._

_And stay the Hellmouth out of Kentucky for the near future._

**FLASHBACK END**

That incident still gave him the shivers and made him a little more gun shy about anything equine from then on.

Stupid, short-tempered, conclusion jumping, fly blown, beasts of burden, may Hostess never bless them with sweet delicacies ever again.

He had even had the..._unique_... experience of running into Love and War in one of their 'clandestine' rendezvous.

True to form, the ol' Xander luck had created chaos.

**FLASHBACK**

_"Sweet mother of mercy," grumbled Xander as he sat in a quiet corner of the steakhouse, his attention desperately focused on his meal, as tried to ignore the tittering and aroused rumbles of a couple._

_On the other side of the restaurant._

_He had been quietly enjoying his meal, a simple fare of steak and vegetables, from a little joint in this one horse town in Texas that a kind local had pointed out to him. The steak was cooked perfect, size and quality weren't skimped like you see in the big cities. The sauce, a lovely red wine jus, was the exact right combination of sweet and tart that mixed well with the meat and fresh cut and prepared vegetables._

_For a young man who had been walking/jumping/running all day, with heavy weights on to train as he travelled, it was manna from heaven, hitting a spot deep in his stomach in pleasure._

_He was only a quarter of a way through this delightful repast, when They had walked in._

_With a thunderous roar, like a lion in a rage bellowing its anger down a metal funnel, a veritable flock of motorcycles arrived, parking haphazardly outside the steakhouse, making a mess and kicking up enough dust to bury the pyramids of Giza._

_And in they swaggered._

_What the normal folk probably saw was intimidating enough. Six men, over six feet tall to a man, more solid than a bank vault door, dressed in the stereotypical biker, chains, studs and leather and Raybans, proceeded in first, roughly shoving other patrons out of the way the two that walked behind them._

_Xander however noticed their true nature, stiffening slightly as the scent of bones, dust, earth and hate filled his nostrils. Passing his ruby eyes quickly over them, he struggled not react instinctively, to destroy them immediately, as he saw them for what they were._

_The dead._

_Glowing yellow eyes, like lanterns, pierced through the shades they wore, embedded in their fleshless skulls. Their gloves covered up most of their hands, but left their bony fingers on full display for one who could see through the Mist. Each false breath they took sounded like a cross between chattering chipmunks and a death rattle, grating on the Monkey King heir's ears.  
_

_These, however bad they looked and felt to him, were small potatoes compared to the two behind them._

_Again, to the mortals, the male of the pair seemed to be the leader of the bikers. Same clothing, but taller and a bit more solid. His face was twisted in an arrogant sneer, taking everything in and finding it wanting. Behind those sunglasses though, Xander could faintly see the blooming of fire and what he thought was a miniature mushroom cloud like you would see after a huge boom blast._

_Xander gritted his teeth, trying to control himself, as the aura of the man clashed subtlety with his own, urging him to fight, to battle._

_There was no doubt about it. This man... was Ares, the Greek God of War._

_According to Janus, Ares was more bloodthirsty than his counterpart, Mars, while the Roman branch was more dignified and formal. Xander didn't think that any biker was formal, thus it was Ares._

_This made his companion's identity also exceedingly obvious._

_Hair that seemed to shimmer in the light, subtlety and not-so-subtlety, changing colours with each sway. Eyes that were deep, soulful and never-ending, a kaleidoscope of delight. Curves and assets that were impossibly perfect and skin as clear and unblemished as the most perfect of diamonds. All topped off with that husky, sultry voice that went straight to every man's, and woman's, libido and wrapped in a 'little black dress' combo that was a hair away from becoming completely indecent._

_Yes, Aphrodite had left more than a few jaws hanging and tongues unraveling all the way to the floor._

_Xander had barely managed to control himself, Ares aura of aggression grating against his control just as much as The Lady of Doves' aura of seduction and fascination. The combined effect of opposing, yet complimentary, forces playing merry havoc on his mental control._

_He had desperately focused on his food, wanting to finish and get out of here as swiftly as possible._

_Even as he ate, the adulteress and the warrior had quickly gotten themselves seated, their entourage taking seats near them and discouraging anyone trying to get their attention with wrathful glares._

_They had then proceeded to make out._

_Xander twitched violently as another soft moan and a chuckle was heard from said table, his eyes unfortunately able to see what they were doing even as he concentrated on his food in an attempt to block out the noises._

_Don't get him wrong, he didn't mind people making public demonstrations of affection, but there was a line that had to be drawn and never crossed. These two didn't even see the line and had crossed it more than a hundred miles back!_

_Finally, he had finished his meal, quickly making his way to the counter where a disturbed and somewhat scared cashier waited. A quick exchange of cash and Xander swiftly on his way, focused on getting out of there before the deities became cats in heat._

_Then his bad luck struck._

_His mind was so preoccupied with escaping the steakhouse turned bordello, he lost control of his tail, letting it loose from being tied around his waist._

_Despite his dislike of the show (too much manly one-upmanship) it had some good ideas for those folk with tails._

_His tail, swinging freely, was more powerful than many thought, easily able to wield a claymore sword, or even Ruyi Jingu Bang, with ease if necessary. So an errant wooden chair would mean nothing to it, especially without Xander's conscious control of it's power._

_Said chair, unconsciously struck hard, skidded back on its rear legs, scraping the floor loudly, and drawing everyone's attention to the sound. Slowing down, the chair hit a small divot in the blow, making it tip completely back. The back rest then came down on a serving tray that hovered half-on half-off of the table, launching the contents into the air._

_Some of the contents, little wooden markers that indicate the way the steak was cooked, whether it be rare, medium or other, struck the high ceiling fan, spinning fast in an effort to cool down the restaurant from the hot summer night, which then proceeded to lay down covering fire fit for Vietnam with the wooden projectiles. Coincidentally, these make shift bullets only struck the biker entourage, piercing through the leather they wore and digging into the 'flesh' beneath with a loud rattling noise._

_THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!_

_"Incoming!" yelled one of the older patrons, a war veteran himself, the noise triggering memories he probably wanted left forgotten, launching himself beneath his table as it too was peppered with the markers._

_As everyone dove for cover, even the dead, wooden bullets still rained down for several moments._

_Then the worst thing happened._

_The markers were not the only things on the tray. There was also a nice full bottle of decent Champagne in an ice bucket. It was also launched into the air, separating as they did so. The ice bucket managed to lose the ice as it lift towards the fan, the frozen water meeting the spinning aerial blade._

_CLICKACLICKALCLICKA!_

_The ice launched as well, all aimed for the same target._

_"YEEEK!" squealed Aphrodite as she launched herself from her paramours lap as her large cleavage suddenly became a glacier between two mountains, making her dance awkwardly and flutter her extremely short skirt and blouse in an effort to get the solid water out, giving many of the patrons an eyeful of her derriere and breasts._

_Her squealing and squirming was halted by a loud CLANG! as the heavy empty ice bucket landed fully on her head, covering it completely and knocking her over on her ass._

_Right on top of the extremely pointy and sharp steak markers._

_The resulting scream as she leapt up nearly shattered the windows even as her head and body lurched forward, trying to ease the pain..._

_BONG!_

_Right into the lip of the table, the bucket resounding in the dazed Goddess of Love's ears, even as he rattled brainpan finally gave up the ghost, sending her into the darkness._

_Unconscious._

_The bottle, on the other hand, continued to flip end over end across the room, in an arc that was similar, but lower than the bucket, terminating in a spot that Aphrodite had just left._

_It was known from that day forth that the gruff and rough Ares was able to sing soprano, with a little help._

_Ares shriek of agony as the bottom on the champagne bottle landed square on his family jewels out did his 'friend's' squeals and screams and managed to crack the glasses close to him like rotten eggs._

_He hunched forward, his hands going to his throbbing balls, in an attempt to lessen the pain._

_POP!_

_His gaping mouth, which was hanging over the Tartarus-damned bottle, was suddenly filled with an exploding cork, as the pressure from the spinning pushed the liquid within the bottle against what was holding it back, lodging it in his throat, making him gag, even as said contents doused him in a violent froth._

_Still gagging and being sprayed with Champagne, he fell backwards, tipping his chair over with a crash, disappearing from the line of sight of everyone._

_From Xander's tail striking the chair to everyone cowering beneath tables and the humiliation of both God and Goddess, was only a matter of moments. Moments that would forever be immortalised in the mind of the heir to the Monkey King. It was like a train wreck, he had frozen still in disbelief, almost out the door, and watched in complete horror as it happened._

_After a moments silence, broken only by the high-pitched groans of the War God as he struggled to get back up, Xander quickly made his escape, sprinting full out into the night._

_As he hit the town limits a mere minute later, he thought he could hear the almighty (soprano) roar of an angered and humiliated deity calling for blood and vengeance._

_Xander only ran faster._

**END FLASHBACK**

That had been about six months ago and he had been avoiding any of the War God's minions ever since. Apparently, the muscle head had been able to get a small glimpse of him. Not enough for the warrior to identify him, but enough to be able to give a crude description and post a large reward for information leaving to his whereabouts in the Olympus Newspaper.

Aphrodite had done the same, much to Xander's chagrin. He could deal with bounty hunters and Ares, if he needed to, they generally spoke the same language. Fists, steel and blood, even if Xander wasn't the one to strike first unless the situation called for it.

With Aphrodite though? The only weapons she needed were her words and her face and she could bring absolute _Hell_ down on him better than her lover ever could.

There is a damn good reason that the female was the more dangerous of the species.

Thankfully, he had managed to dodge any and all hunters out for his hide, the 72 Transformations getting a real workout and proving to be an absolute life-saver.

Still, he managed to keep up his travelling without much issue, which led him to be currently in Maine.

As a Cali boy, born and bred, and never leaving the Hellmouth, he had never seen snow in real life, documentaries or snow cones being the closest he had ever got. So, as a change of pace, he decided he would have a white Christmas this year, just out of curiosity.

Of course, he was still a Cali boy, so being near the sea was a must. His time on the swim team had been rather enjoyable, even if he nearly become the Monster from the Black Lagoon. He had always felt more drawn to the water since then, even if the formula had been flushed out of his system.

As a result, he had chosen a small island, Mount Desert he believed it was called, to abide for the holidays, in a town called Bar Harbour.

It had been rather interesting. The slick roads, the cold air, the gentle snow falling upon the ground. It had been rather invigorating, even if he had gotten a few strange looks for his attire as he walked around. Silk pants, sandals, a half vest that bared his muscular chest to the cold air, shades of his Father, wasn't something anyone would expect to see someone dressed in during a snowy winter.

He didn't mind, and simply kept walking, eying the roaring and pounding surf with pleasure, unbothered by the freezing water, as he walked along the coastline, the cliffs rising high above.

He blinked as he looked up, wondering if he was hallucinating.

That was the only reason he could possibly see a massive helicopter gunship hovering adjacent to the cliff and directly above him, right?

...

Xander sighed as he summoned his staff, twirling it until it was full size, vibrating almost eagerly to do battle.

"Ah well," he mused, as a cloud appeared beneath his boots, lifting him slowly and stealthily up the cliff, "nothing for it."

His ascent was interrupted by a loud scream, audible even over the chopper's rotors, now that he was paying attention. He glanced up again...

And was greeted by the face of a pale skinned, black haired girl, her eyes closed and terrified out of her wits, colliding with him.

"Ooomph!" Xander grunted, as the air rushed out of him, before reacting lightning quick to keep ahold of the young lady, hugging her tightly to his chest as he let go of his staff to float beside him with an exertion of his will, preventing her from falling further.

But she still kept screaming, making his ears ring.

Time to end that.

"Oi, Lady!" he yelled in her ear, making her start and, much to Xander's ear's relief, quickly silence her herself. Then she opened her eyes.

Black as night, the depths seeming endless, swimming slightly with tears of fear and yet, there was a fire in those depths. A coruscating rainbow fire that Xander had only seen in the most precious of opals.

Xander suddenly had a feeling of deja vu as he slightly lost his train of thought as he stared into those precious orbs.

Though why did he think he was missing something here?

* * *

Bianca di Angelo had been having a very strange day, one that had been started by meeting the green-eyed boy, Percy, and had then continued to fall down the slippery slope into the depths of weirdness, insanity and rabbits having tea parties.

Well, the last may be a bit far, but Wonderland seemed to be only a step away for her now, especially considering that her vice-principal had turned out to be a monster from her brother's little game.

Boy had that been a shock and a half. It had been bandied about the dormitories that he was a monster of a teacher, but she didn't believe this was what they had meant.

The strange boy and the monster had thrown words back and forth then, even as the boy had stood in front of them, obviously trying to protect them for some reason.

Son of Poseidon? Great Stirring? What did all these mean?!

The boy's plan to jump of the cliff had met her complete disbelief. Was he stupid?! There was no way any of them could have survived that!

Then the cavalry had arrived.

A girl that was invisible, which was pretty cool. A nervous looking boy that wore a weird bulbous cap in bright colours, that looked like he had a rainbow sack on his head, and, amazingly, a set of goat legs. And lastly, a fierce looking girl with spiky hair and dressed in chains and black.

Considering the terrifying face, the horrifying shield and the damn scary spear that looked more like a bolt of lightning she wielded, she could have ruled over the rough and crazy girls in Westover Hall within the day she arrived.

Of course, that did her no good when her charge towards the monster, a manticore according to the invisible blond and her little brother, was halted by the blinding glare of a helicopter's, a military gunship, sudden arrival and dazzlingly bright lights. The monster/Dr. Thorn/manticore or whatever he was, took the opportunity to slam the lightning woman away with a swift strike of his massive paw, sending her tumbling, before it leapt toward her, Nico and Percy.

"I have you, dark spawn!" Thorn roared as he came on, jaws wide in a cruel grin filled with malice and pleasure.

Percy was thrown away as he tried to defend, his shield shattering under the powerful onslaught but managing to save his butt, his foot catching on her little brother's aviator jacket as he flew, dragging the kid with him.

Leaving only her to face the beast's power.

Or so she had thought.  
The formerly invisible girl, her blonde hair flying and grey eyes as hard as steel, leap to her defence, somehow reappearing and trying to get her out of the line of fire.

She was swatted aside, to within a couple of feet of the cliff edge, even as the tail of Thorn whipped, stinger gleaming murderously as it plunged forward toward her, making her flinch, only for it to pass by her cheek, pierce her hoody...

And freeze, as if time itself had stopped it, as a noise rent the air.

The clear and deep sound of a hunting horn.

As close as she was to the beast, able to count all three rows of it's serrated teeth, she couldn't miss the frission of fear and worry as it passed along it's face.

The next few seconds were hectic. The monster leaping, her still hanging from it's scorpion-like tail, toward the edge of the cliffs and where the helicopter waited and the blonde girl lay panting in pain, dodging whistling streaks of missiles, arrows, all the while, fired from the bows of several girls, barely her own age, dressed in silver.

It landed roughly, several arrows already buried in it's flank and legs, leaving it barely able to move and growling in pain.

"This is against Ancient Laws," it roared, directed at one of the younger girls, her auburn hair in a pony tail and her oddly moonish yellow eyes glaring at Thorn in anger. To Bianca, there was an air about her, something different that the rest of the silver girls lacked that she was able to pick up on immediately.

"Not so," she answered cooly, "The hunting of all wild beasts are within my sphere. And you, foul creature, are a wild beast," her cool expression shifted to a scowl, "I command that you release the maiden you hold hostage, in return, I offer you a day's clemency to escape my wrath before I hunt you down. Personally."

Thorn growled ferally, as if insulted and enraged, "You want her?" he snarled, low and deep, his body gathering itself to pounce, making the silver girl's bow strings grow tighter and the other group who, except for the still insensate blond girl beside her, had regathered themselves, weapons drawn, with her brother protectively behind them as he looked at her, worried and fearful, even as the goat boy held him back firmly.

"Then go get her!" he snarled, the tail she dangled from whipping at speeds that made the world blur to her.

And threw her over and down the cliff.

Bianca screamed in fear as she plunged, closing her in order to not see the rocks coming. Faintly, she thought she could hear the desperate and despairing scream of her name from her brother's throat as she fell.

She despaired, knowing that she would die, knowing that she leave her brother, so young and innocent, all alone in the world. He may be a bit of a pain at times, and it sometimes wore on her to be the one to look after him, but he was still her brother. She still loved him, more than anything else in the world.

And now she would leave him behind.

Her screams of fear became wails of agony, as she pictured that future for her sibling in her last moments.  
She felt the sudden stop, crashing into something as solid as stone, and kept screaming, even as it embraced her in it's deadly embrace.

Though it was oddly without pain and smelt like a cologne she vaguely remembered smelling from one of the more competent and kindly male teachers at Westover, one that had been handsome, young and respected by the rest of her class.

Many were sad when they were informed he had left, opening the way for Dr. Thorn.

"Oi Lady!" a voice yelled gruffly, even if the tone was that of a child's.

Surprise filled her, making her silent and also making her snap her eyes open. Looking directly into another's.

His skin was healthily tanned, as if he enjoyed being out in the sun, and laughter filled his ruby red eyes, even as they looked at her with surprise, concern and confusion. His hair, sopping wet from sleet, snow and spray, was somehow black and spiky.

All in all, he was striking handsome. His firm grip on her making her blush, acutely aware of the taut muscles she could feel that had no place being on someone her own age. Devilish thoughts ran amok in her mind as the adrenaline from the throw and her fright wore off.

"Finally," he said in relief, "no offence intended lady, but your yells hurt my sensitive ears."

She blushed deeper, somehow managing to squeak out a 'sorry'. Lord in Heaven, she was so embarrassed!

"Now," he continued, jerking his chin up the cliff face she had just been thrown over, "do you mind telling me what's the what up there?"

Bianca paled as her attention refocused, forgetting about her embarrassment and current predicament, and quickly blurted out the situation to her saviour.

"Thereisafightgoingon. Weirdboyinvisiblegirlgoatboyslightninwoman. .Teacheramonsterattackusneedhelpplease?" she babbled incoherently and pleading.

Apparently, this was enough, as her saviour's face brightened in understanding, mumbling something about 'willow babble', and became resolved and hardened, clenching her closer to him with a squeak of protest.

"Hold on," he warned as Bianca felt a feeling of power fill the air, like she was standing next to a transformer, practically feeling the air crackle, "this is going to be fast."

Before she could say a word, the world seemed to blur again, this time in reverse, as, in some manner, much to her surprise as she looked over a muscular shoulder, the boy flew up the side of the cliff rapidly.

A blink of time passed, and then the cliffs disappeared, revealing the clearing she was thrown from and the sorry state of the fighters, silver and previous.

Another moment, shorter than before, passed as her saviour, who she still didn't know the name of, took in the situation.

And acted.

Nico di Angelo, unknowing child of Hades, stared in disbelief and horror as he saw his sister thrown to her death to the rocks below. Even as he screamed desperately for his sister, the satyr (which his Mythomagic obsessed subconscious felt was absolutely cool) held him back.

"You monster," Nico heard the verbal silver girl say, her voice trembling in rage, even as the rest of her group pulled their bow strings even tighter, masks of ugly hate blooming on their otherwise pretty faces.

Nico didn't pay much more attention, his mind spiralling into the depths as a feeling, a force, he had never felt before began to surge forth, consuming his mind. It was powerful, enriched in the darkness of his despair and sorrow, swallowing that sorrow making it it's own, making it stronger.

His mind became focused, like a laser, wanting only one thing.

Vengeance.

He could not bring his sister back to life. No one could, nothing could.

But he could still tear apart the bastard that had killed her.

You want your vengeance? The dark force within him seemed to speak, a soft croon, a velvety delight, alluring, hiding the sharp steel it truly was. If Nico was less innocent he would have called it seductive, the voice of a succubus luring her prey to her bed. I can give you it to you. The power to take your vengeance, to kill her **_murderer_**.

Nico felt the world seem to darken, narrowing in focus, until all he could see was the monster Thorn, idly noting he was holding another girl in his tail, the blond one who had tried to save his sister before.

Black fire seemed to fill his veins, making him burn and sweat where he stood, as he could feel the light inside of Thorn, lights that he could sense in everyone in the clearing, but vastly different, pulsing slightly, like a heartbeat.

It was something he had discovered some time ago, an ability to feel these 'lights' instinctively, allowing him to feel if someone was behind him, if someone was in the next room. It was an interesting trick, enabling him to sneak around after curfew and other little things, but he always thought there was something more to it. Something more grand, more powerful.

Something more deadly.

This seemed to be the something more. Some part of him, deep deep down, told him he could reach out. Reach out and touch Thorn's crimson 'light'.

And snuff it out like a candle.

He just needed the power, the strength, something that force could provide.

_Yes_, the voice sang, in joy, in triumph, as Nico began drifting into it's metaphorical embrace, to held to it's bosom and fed the milk of the dark matrons, Vengeance and Madness, come to me, it crooned as he drew closer, come into my arms, and let us avenge your sister.

Together.

Lost in pain, anguish, sorrow and consumed by a rising anger and rage, he stretched out to that force, reaching for the power it promised, even as his chillingly empty dark eyes never moved from the form of the taunting monster Thorn, even as the satyr threw him to the ground in order for the swift flight of bullets from the chopper to miss him.

Vengeance would be his.

C-CRASH!

The sound, loud enough to shatter the air and knock snow off of trees, threw him out of the fugue state he was in and slamming him violently back to reality and awareness of the events happening around him and losing his tunnel focus on Thorn.

Faintly, he thought he could hear wails of agony, ones you hear when someone, after everything they have done, all they have sacrificed, has been for naught, falling short of their ideal, their dream. Making them shatter like a delicate pane of glass.

It happened quite frequently in banks, he heard.

But that wasn't important, what was important, was the source of the almighty sound.

A flick of his dark eyes showed Nico the cause, though how it had happened, he had no clue.

The helicopter, one of the newer models from the United States military, had been pierced clean though, from aft to fore, by a long, thick, pole. Skewering it like a shish-kabob or a fish on a spear. It had buckled everything in it's way, shattering thick, armoured, metal walls like it was tin foil.

It hung there, rotors still turning furiously, like an insect pinned in the air. The pole had also pierced it, at just the right angle, to pin the chopper to the cliff face, unable to move no matter how vigorously the rotors churned.

Helpless.

Following the pole to it's apparent origin, out of dull curiosity if nothing else, his eyes suddenly became more filled with life, their light restored, at what he beheld.

There, in mid air, seeming standing on a golden cloud, clasped in the arms of an odd stranger, was his sister.

His living sister.

His bright, breathing, living sister.

Anger and rage cooled, disappearing almost completely, as his senses touched the familiar 'light' of his sister.

All was well now, what ever else happened.

He was alive, his sister was alive, and they were together.

Nothing else mattered.

Period.

* * *

_What is this? _Thorn the Manticore snarled in his mind, shuffling along with edge of the cliff with a wince as he took in the new player to this clusterfuck.

Red eyes pierced Thorn's from beneath furrowed brows and wet spiky hair, as their owner, clutching that damnable alive dark spawn to him protectively, floated, impossibly, on a small golden cloud. Clutched in the hand not holding the girl, was one end of a long battle staff, the other of which was treating his getaway vehicle like a spiked to the wall.

The ruby eyed boy, for he was barely a teenage brat, hardened his face, as if he had found something he didn't like.

"You're a real piece of work aren't you, Spikey?" The brat growled, letting go off the staff and floating down with the brat, heading towards the surprised and distrustful Huntress and her troupe, never taking his eyes off of the monster.

Thorn narrowed his slitted eyes, not understanding why the brat had voluntarily disarmed himself, leaving him helpless. At least, it would have, if he didn't have that foolish woman dangling from his tail.

The boy landed gently beside the Huntress, who watched him warily, even as the cloud abruptly disappeared, leaving the boy to hold up the smaller girl in the cold snow.

"I can see the scores of thousands of innocents that have fallen to you," the growl was now a brassy rumble, anger and rage blooming like flowers in the spring, releasing the girl gently.

The female death brat stumbled slightly back, Thorn noticed the weakness in the knees. Possibly from shock and terror. If she was closer to him, she would have been easy prey.

But not when she was so close to the Huntress. Not when this unknown figure stood before her in protection, power coming off him in palpable waves.

The brat was no god, not by a long shot, but damn if he wasn't closer than any other half-blood he had seen in this modern era.

"Their lingering energy, touched by death, stains you, a fetid rotten smell that perfectly mirrors your blackened, rotten heart. If you even have one."

Thorn coughed a laugh, sounding more leonine than human, "what is your point, Brat?" He sneered, dangling the helpless girl slightly with shake. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention for a moment, showing the shaking and angered child of Poseidon looking ready to do something impetuous. Maybe he could use that?

"There isn't one really," the boy said with a shrug, making Thorn, and everyone else in the clearing blink in confusion, "I just wanted to distract you."

A moment passed as Thorn processed that last comment before reacting, whirling toward his flanks.

But it was already too late.

Erupting out of the snow at his feet, an exact copy on the boy leapt at him, his fist already swinging and moving too fast for his claws or fangs to catch.

Crack!

A thunderous blow, one that made Thorn think the kid was Heracles in disguise, was cracked over his jaw. At the same moment, another copy, wielding a sword, leapt from just below the lip of the cliff, sliced off his tail at the base, caught the girl and said tail, and carried them both, in one massive leap, towards her comrades.  
Safe.

The force of the first blow, as powerful as it was, crushed legendary flesh and pulped mystical bone , and sent Thorn flying, teeth scattering like an ivory rain. His body crashed into the cockpit of the chopper, shattering the windscreen and killing the pilots with his mass.

And still he kept going.

Blowing through the pilots, he crashed into the hold next, wiping out the team there, scattering them like pins in a bowling alley, many of them shoved out of the open hold doors and into free fall to the unforgiving sea and rocks below, death awaiting with eager hands to collect the souls of they who dared to touch, to harm, what is the King's.

And still he continued.

His momentum had slowed slightly, but he still retained enough to carve through the storage compartment like a hot knife through butter, guns and ammo and rockets scattered tumbling in his wake.

Finally reaching the aft panel of the craft, he was stopped, leaving a five inch deep Manticore impression in said panel in the process.

Thorn groaned in pain, dazed from the strike like he was hit by the Father of Monsters himself.

"What in the Styx?" He growled woozily, trying to stand on his own paws, only to get dizzy and fall flat on his stomach. Again.

_Thump_.

And again.

_Thump_.

And again.

Several sulphurous curses later, he was finally on his feet, wobbly and very wounded, but still standing.

"Ha," he grunted in satisfaction, "it will take more than a powerful whelp to keep me down."

He grinned slightly, exposing a great deal of his now missing teeth, before freezing. The sound of liquid dripping echoed in his ears ominously, as did the hiss of escaping gas. Equally ominous, was the scent of fuel entering his sensitive nose.

As well as the scent of smoke and flame.

Realising what was happening, his mane fell flat and his head was lowered in resignation, "damn brat," he growled, even as the flame scent grew stronger, closer, and the scent of fuel also increased, "you will pay for this."

**_BOOOOOOOOOOM!_**

* * *

The Huntress stared at the explosion of the mortal aircraft, wondering what in the name of her Uncle had just happened.  
A low whistle has heard, coming from the pursed lips of the enigmatic male that had, apparently, saved the young maiden Artemis was going to recruit.

"Not bad," he said with a smug grin, "wasn't quite what I was aiming for, but not bad."

"You should have done it yourself then," the, unbelievably to the Huntress, seeming copy of the odd boy, for her senses told her it was, somehow, not a true being, said with a grumble, "I don't quite have the strength that you do."

"Quit ye whining," the odd boy, the original one (she hoped) said with a wave of a dismissive hand and a wild grin, obviously not taking the comment too seriously, "now, in the words of The G-man, 'bloody bugger off'."

"Aye, boss" the clone(?) said with a salute, a wink and a puff of smoke.

Disappearing.

The other clone, the one that had saved the child of Athena, also disappeared in the same manner.

There was silence in the clearing, as everyone stared at the oblivious stranger, who was ambling to edge of the cliff and peering down, looking for something.

Artemis had finally had enough. This stranger, full of such power and skill, was unknown to her. Unknowns are a threat.

Especially if they are male.

Time to get some answers.

"Boy!" She ordered, trying to get his attention, but was interrupted.

"One moment, Ma'am," he said, holding up a hand in a universal 'wait' gesture, stunning the goddess at his audacity. She could already feel her Hunt's shock and the beginnings of it's change into anger, "I just need to get my staff back."

Before she could retort, the boy extended his other hand over the cliff, where the mortal aircraft had plunged down after the explosion, taking part of the cliff face and this annoying boy's weapon, and seemed to focus.

A fragment of a moment later, Artemis' sharp ears heard the screeching, groaning and crashing of metal in quick succession, followed by a long black blur that whipped into the boy's hand with a meaty smack.

The boy smiled and made a couple of fast twirls of the returned staff, before it vanished from her sight. Returning to it's Mist form perhaps? Still, the staff is an odd weapon to carry for a warrior, lacking the sharp edges needed to kill the enemy quickly.

Though there was definitely more to it than meets the eye, the ability it showed in skewering the mortal flying machine had proved that effectively.

"There we go," the odd boy said with a nod, "Now," the boy turned back toward her, his startling deep red ones meeting her own moon-like orbs, "you were about to say something, Ma'am."

"Indeed," he voice was cold, remembering the slight dismissal he had given her in order to retrieve his weapon. She was satisfied that he seemed to pale a little at her tone, and even more when he finally noticed the readied bow strings of her Hunters and the wrathful faces they wore, "tell me quickly, boy, what is your name?"

He seemed to regathered his composure at that, much to her grudging approval. Not many would be able to do so in the face of her Hunter's, and her own, wrath.

"My name is Alexander Lavelle... Harris," seemed to pause at the last name, grumbling about it, but it was still a truthful answer, perhaps he disliked the name? "It is an honour to meet your acquaintance, Lady Huntress," he finished with a deep, but surprisingly sincere, bow.

A subtle gesture of her hand had her Hunters relaxing their bows slightly, barely visible. She could feel no ill intent on him, a little trepidation perhaps, but that was par for the course when she met a male who knew whom she was, but the sincerity and respect shined through like a torch cutting through the darkness.

Perhaps he would be a tolerable boy, if only for a time.

"Campers!" She called, "go with my Hunters as they set up camp. It is my wish, as the Goddess Artemis, to discuss with you the events of this night."

One of the boys, the sea spawn that had caused a ruckus two years ago she believed open his mouth to object, before the elbow of the blond girl halted him, "of course, Lady Artemis," the blond girl said with a nod of respect, dragging the boy along as she, the satyr (who kept giving her looks, which she ignored) and her half sister went with the Hunters who had obeyed her unspoken orders.

"I would also have further words with you," she directed at the strange boy, even as the prospective Hunter she was looking for and her brother trudged toward the odd boy, clinging tightly to each other and looking not willing to let go any time soon.

She grimaced inwardly. The chances of Bianca di Angelo joining the Hunt now were slim to none with the events of tonight. Still, she could be patient, a few more years didn't mean much too an immortal.

"So I figured," this strange boy said with a sigh, "though if you could, Lady Artemis? Please refer to me as Xander," the boy smiled nostalgically, just exposing slightly larger canines in his mouth. An odd feature and not one she had encountered outside those of monster heritage, but she withheld her judgement. Even with what she saw tonight, the power he displayed, she still felt it was only the tip of the iceberg for this boy.

And a hunter never stalks unknown prey.

"It was the name a childhood friend gave me, as she was not quite able to pronounce my name properly," he quirked a small grin, slightly mischevious, "with the red hair you have, it reminded me of her."

Again she could the sincerity, even if there was some mild humour, but there was no disrespect or teasing. Actually, she could a slight sorrow, a sadness buried deep. Perhaps this female friend of her had passed? Well, he had saved a maiden tonight, so perhaps this small request would be granted. It's not likely she would ever see the boy again after this, right?

"Very well, Xander," she answered, turning on her heel, even as the di Angelo siblings reached the boy, the younger sibling throwing himself at the boy and practically worshipping the boy in thanks for saving his sister, while his sister looked on in amusement, "come!" She snapped, "I would,have my answers before it gets later than it already is."

All of them, even Xander, were quick to follow. She smirked to herself. She still had it.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Californian Sage, Equaling Olympus**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Percy Jackson**

**Chapter 3: Inquiries and Interrogations**

Xander was in, potentially, either the most dangerous or the most advantageous position of his short life.

He was currently sitting beside two young half-bloods of undetermined parentage (though he had his suspicions considering the slight smell of grave dirt hanging on them. As a Sunnydale native and former vampire hunter, it was hard to forget that smell and incredibly easy to recall), watching as the Hunters of Artemis, a group of arguably the best trackers in existence with a distinct dislike for the entirety of the male gender, set up their camp.

He had to admire the efficiency of which they did so, each of them knowing their own tasks and performing them with the ease of long practice, most likely numbering in the decades. Large wolves prowled through the camp, the silver wearing young women completely unafraid of them as they dished out hunks of meat for them to eat even as a cast of falcons rooster in the snow laden trees, waiting for the Hunters to dish out their portion of the repast. Tents practically sprang out of their pockets, unfolding and raising themselves as they were thrown down. Fires were lit in moments. Were it not for the somewhat grim faces of the youthful seeming females, it would have been a picturesque sight.

That said, Xander would give up Twinkies if it got him out of here in one piece.

With the way he had saved the young demi-god sitting beside him, in full view of one of most tenacious and mercurial of the Olympians, he knew he would have to play it close. A single misstep, a fragment of the wrong word, and he would have a tireless Huntress on his ass for however long it took to take him down and mount his hide on a wall. He was betting she was already suspicious, the powers he had shown were definitely not something you could get from the cereal box of divine genetics after all. Hopefully, he could come up with a semi-reasonable explanation without spilling all of the beans.

Unfortunately, he was drawing blanks in that regard.

'Ah well,' he thought with a grimace, 'may as well go with the good ol' standby, and hope to Hell and back that it works.'

He was thrown from his thoughts as he felt a shiver from the two siblings beside him. Despite their manner of dress, it was obvious that the cold was still getting to them. And it looked like Artemis was taking her sweet time to get around to getting her answers.

May as well warm them up.

He dipped his fingers into the little red pouch at his side and grasped the item he wanted and pulled firmly.

A cascade of a thick crimson blanket suddenly appearing drew attention from any and all, before he swirled it around the two huddling siblings with a grand flourish.

"Here," he said with a small smile, reaching his mix of brown and crimson eyes, "this will keep you warm for a while."

Bianca, the eldest and the one he had caught coming over the cliff, nodded in gratitude with a small blush, even as the younger Nico's voice thanked him with a mild chattering.  
Xander, about to return to his thoughts, paused before eying them both, "how are you guys holding up?" He queried. From previous experience, he knew that having what you thought you knew about the world get turned on it's ear was generally a rough ride. Hopefully, he could smooth a few paths.

"Confused," answered Bianca, "everything seems so different, as if someone had removed a veil from my eyes, letting me see clearly for once. At the same time, I suddenly feel lost, as if the world had passed me by, leaving me to try and catch up."

"Sort of the same," admitted the younger one before a small brightened up his pale face, "but I'm also excited. A whole new world, one that is real, based on Mythomagic." He looked almost downright giddy.

"You might want to pull your head in a bit," he warned the younger male seriously, "you have a taken a step into a whole new world, that much is correct, but the world has more of a chance of killing you and leaving your body for the crows than anything else."

Xander may think himself as a fun and funny kinda a guy, but he also knew when to get serious and not play around. Something that he didn't think the younger kid was able to do at the moment.

"It's truly that bad?" Questioned the girl, her face furrowed into a frown as she huddled into the thick crimson blanket, holding her brother close.

"The world is not a nice place at the best of times, Bianca," he responded, "and it goes double for those who exist behind the Mist."

"Mist?" Queried the younger kid, his face curious. Xander let himself smirk a little, the lad was like an eager puppy, curious about everything and energetically trying to fulfill it.

Hopefully it won't get him the way it got the poor cat.

"A supernatural field that protects the Divine world from discovery by men, basically. It makes a definite supernatural situation be perceived as a more natural one. Monsters often use it to disguise their real looks, but there are other applications for it if you have the knack and the patience."

"That's what did," Nico said a little excitedly again.

Xander shrugged, "It's an old trick that still works pretty well. Even the good guys use it when they need to."

Bianca looked at him queerly, as if she didn't know what to think of him, before shaking her head briefly, "This is so weird."

Xander couldn't help but chuckle. He couldn't remember the amount of time he had thought those exact same words, here and in Sunnydale.

"You might think that now," he said with a grin at the siblings, eyes alight with humour, "but give it a year or two and this will seem like another day at the office."

Bianca scowled harshly, bringing her brother in close, "I'm not sure that I like that," she protested, "we just wanted a, relatively, normal life."

Xander stopped grinning and looked at them hard. He took in how close they sat, the comforting arms that wrapped around each other, as if to assure them that their sibling was still there, was still real. They had been pretty shook up tonight, both of them almost losing one another. A normal life would have been their greatest wish at that moment.

Unfortunately, even if Xander was no oracle or seer, he didn't see that happening anytime soon, if ever.

"Many of those such as you want nothing more than what you just said," Xander said softly but sternly. It may be a little cruel, but both of them needed to know the cold hard facts, so as to make real and intelligent decisions, rather than making them based on impossible and unreachable desires, thus leading to their untimely demise. "But, unfortunately, unless the status quo shifts dramatically sometime soon, that probably isn't going to happen," he snorted slightly at them, "Half-bloods and normal don't really mix well."

Bianca frowned at his reply, even as he leant back against a tree, visibly taking his ease. It wouldn't do to be too tense when he was going to meet the powerful Goddess of the Hunt. Less chance of a slip-up that way.

Even as his sister chewed over her thoughts, Nico asked a question that had been niggling at him for a while, "You mentioned half-bloods. So did Thorn, calling _us_ that. What are they?"

Xander visibly quirked an eyebrow, "You play Mythomagic and you don't have a single clue?" The question was skeptical and almost incredulous, making the younger and shorter boy flush slightly in embarrassment. Xander chuckled slightly, he had looked at the Mythomagic once or twice, a sort of remembrance to Jesse who had loved those type of games, and had found it rather interesting. The depictions of the various monsters, men and deities were rather accurate.

"Basically," explained Xander reclining comfortably in the snow as he looked at the wrapped siblings, "half-blood is the modern name for demi-gods."

They both seemed shocked and surprised, not believing him. A natural reaction for the newly initiated into the world behind the Mist.

"Have you ever had difficulty reading?" He interrupted before they began to protest, "like the letters on the page seemed to shift, swirl and swim, rearranging themselves at random? Do you have trouble concentrating or sitting still? As if your whole body is alive with energy and wants to break out and do something? Do you feel like your the odd one out, like your different from the rest?" He nodded at their surprised and shocked expressions, "ADHD and dyslexia are a common factor in the majority of half-bloods. At your base, you are inherently different from the rest of humanity, your very heart and soul knows this, thus you unknowingly distance yourself from the 'normal' world, unable to conform or to even relate to them."

It was a hard truth that Xander had seen. Humans, the normal ones, could unconsciously sense the difference in a half-blood, like a silent bell in their heads.

And humans had never tolerated differences well.

Without a blood relationship to balance this, it often made the half-blood looked upon with unconscious suspicion, a kind of 'the usual suspects' kind of thing. It wasn't helped at all by the odd occurrences that followed said half-bloods around like a lost puppy.

This, in turn, lead to a distancing from the half-blood at a young age. Kids are more able to pick up on unconscious cues given off by people, and are quick to respond to them. A half-blood kid picking up on the semi-hostile actions and views of others? It was a no brainer.

It also generally lead them to being a bit obsessive over something, letting them retreat from reality. Books, games, sports or any other activity, something that drowned out the mind and let the body fly.

The lady looked like she had been hit in the face with a fish, stunned. The boy also looked shocked, but also a little excited.

"We really are half-bloods?" Nico breathed.

Xander smirked slightly, "No doubt," he said with a nod.

"Cooooool," Nico said with a grin, obviously in his happy place. Poor kid, he didn't know the reality of the world.

"But that's impossible," Bianca said as she returned back to the present, her mind back on track.

Xander couldn't help himself and laughed a deep belly laugh, drawing attention from the Hunters and the other group.

"There is no such thing as impossible," Xander said as his laughter died down, "the world is full of endless possibilities, infinite choices, both good and bad and in between. This is just one amongst many."

He grinned at them teasingly, "You'll have plenty more to make over the years. I guarantee it."

* * *

Bianca stared at her odd saviour, a bit weirded out at his manner.

He was like the wind, mercurial and fleeting, changing his expression like one would change there clothes. One moment he was grinning, the next he was serious and then back to grinning like a fool.

That said, he was obviously a powerful fool. At least she presumed so, his feat with Thorn and the chopper still fresh in her mind. The sheer strength he had, the impossible powers.

Is that what it means to be a half-blood? To have powers that were nigh impossible and unbelievable?

Perhaps she it would serve her and Nico best to ask a bit more.

Before she could ask another question, a quiet cough drew her attention, shocking her slightly in surprise at not having heard whoever it was that approached. A glance at the source revealed a blond dressed in silver, maybe in her early teens.

"Lady Artemis requests your presence and that of the _boy's_," she said the last word like a curse, looking at the somewhat amused form of Xander, "in her tent. Immediately."

Bianca paled slightly. A Goddess, or so she assumed, wanted _her_!?

Oh boy.

She noticed Xander was easily on his sandalled feet (and she couldn't believe someone was wearing those while in the snow, without showing a bit of a shiver from the cold) and was offering a hand to help her up.

She quickly accepted and was pulled to her feet by the firm and callused hand.

Nico went to get up as well, but the silver parka wearing girl spoke harshly, "Not you, boy. Only the elder one and the maiden."

Bianca's brow crinkled in a frown, glaring at the harsh girl, as her brother flinched back like he was slapped by the venom in the girl's voice. Her anger rose as the girl just sneered. How dare she speak like that to her brother!

Nico's head hung low, clenching his fists tightly. She knew he was use to being bullied a little, she tried her best to be there for him but she couldn't be everywhere, everytime, but to be done so harshly, from someone he had never even met, put a bit more bite into it.

A hard clasp of a hand met her brother's shoulder, causing him to look up into Xander's swirling crimson brown eyes.

"Don't worry, kid" he said with a small grin, "you won't be missing out on much. Just the Lady of the Moon wanting the down low on this whole schmozzle. Boring as hell if you ask me, but if a Lady says go, the wise man goes," the comment was said with a small wink, making Nico smile and herself to giggle a little. Their guide, however, looked a little conflicted, as if unsure how to react.

"Still," Xander commented, "it doesn't mean you should go unoccupied for a time."

Upon saying, he reached into a red silk pouch tied to his waist, his hand, and forearm much to Bianca's surprise and shock as it seemed much too small to do so, disappearing into it briefly before pulling out a large, black leather-bound book, obviously well read by the thumbed pages and incredibly well looked after, as seen by the almost shining cover.

Embossed in gold on the front cover was the simple title, surprisingly able to be clearly read, '_Journey to the West'_.

"My favourite book," Xander smiled as it was accepted by the younger boy, "it might not mean much to you, but it should keep you out of trouble for a little while at least. It was anchor for me when things got rough when I was younger. Hopefully it will do the same for you."

Xander ruffled her brother's hair, much to his preoccupied and quiet complaint, before nodding to an impatient Hunter, "Lead on, ma'am."

As the silver clad girl swiftly lead them, Bianca glanced back at her brother, only to see him enthused in the new gift. He might not be the most diligent of students (she had seen his report card. So-so summed it up quite well. Though his math marks were top grade.) but when his interest was piqued, he practically devoured what information he could get his hands on.

Apparently he was quite interested. Still wrapped in the blanket and huddled towards the warm fire, her brother seemed to absorbed in the text, his dark eyes gleaming with slight wonder.

A bit odd considering it was only a book, but who was she to judge.

The guide showed them to a tent that, to her eyes, seemed to be exactly the same as the others and opened the flap, "In," she demanded, looking particularly out of sorts and glaring at Xander, "My Lady awaits."

Bianca bristled, not liking the tone of the girl. She could understand being uncomfortable around strangers, but there was a difference between discomfort and downright hostile rudeness. So far, she had only seen the latter from the girl.

Before she could react, her mouth ready to tear the girl a new one, a gentle if roughened hand laid gently on her elbow. Xander had obviously ignored the girl's tone and drew her with him into the tent, ending any possibility for her to retaliate.

"Ignore her," he whispered softly as they entered, "they have their reasons for acting as they do. Just go with the flow and don't rise to their bait. Hopefully we will be outta their hair, and them ours, soon enough."

She grimaced slightly. She was a tough girl, had to be considering she was practically raising her brother on her own, and she was not one to take things lying down. A glance at him, showing her ire, merely had him look her square in the eye.

A clash of wills, black meeting the chaotic swirl, before she nodded. She would follow his lead for now. He seemed to be more well informed and understanding of the current state of affairs. Not to mention he had a heavy measure of her trust due to saving her from certain death.

She didn't like having to bite and hold her tongue though.

All other thoughts left her as she stepped into the tent, her eyes widening at the sight.

Silk cushions, long full body furs of different animals and various mounted heads filled the tent, easily seen by the light of a smokeless golden brazier in the centre, it's inner dimensions larger than they should be. He eyes were drawn, however, to a solid wooden weapon's stand at the back of the tent behind the seated occupants, oak perhaps by the subtle shine, and what it held.

Her eyes seemed to glow black, impossible as it sounded, as she took in the object's majesty. Voices, shocked and surprised, drifted away from her as her attention held fast to the displayed weapon.

It was a bow, one that was as long as a man was tall, carved to resemble the horns of gazelle and bright silver. Just looking at it was a sight that took her breath away. It was impossibly perfect, as if spun by moonlight and dreams rather than crafted by mortal means and materials. She could feel something from, a fierce joy, a yearning desire. Freedom on silver wings. But below that, there seemed to be...not a taint, but...a darkness, an edge. The flash of fangs, crimson on white, a deep hunger. A will to fight, to destroy.

To kill.

She instinctively knew that this weapon had taken many a life, and not all of them animal.

Her cultured, her civilised, mind, inscribed and shaped by current beliefs and older values, would have her shift backwards, repulsed at this tool of death.

But she did not.

She felt her awareness drift away even further, the cushions that she had somehow fallen upon barely even felt. Her sight could no longer perceive the real world.

Despite the song of what seemed to be freedom, a song that oddly made her a little edgy, the dark tones below it drew her in, like a moth to the flame. She felt like she was falling into an abyss as she stared at it, flickers of scenes running past her mind.

_A massive serpent, dripping venom, pierced by an arrow through the roof of the mouth. A deer, once a mighty stag, leader of his herd, but now old and slow and sick, taken in mid-leap, a clean strike through the heart. A bedraggled man, standing over the corpse of a small female child, with a bloody knife in hand, struck twice, through the groin and skull._

The images came faster and faster, incomprehensible blurs, until she couldn't even see or acknowledge the world around her, her mind locked in an endless stream of images.

_Blood. Flashing steel. Pierced flesh. Soaring arrows. Help. help. Stop it. Stopit. StopitstopitstopitpleaselordinheavenstopitpleaseSTOOOOOOO-!_

_**SMACK!**_

A sharp stinging on her cheek snapped her back to reality, the horrifying visions she had seen vanishing as the world reasserted itself.

In the form of swirling eyes engulfing her entire vision.

Naturally, she didn't react too well.

"Ahhhh!" She screamed in shock, her body bolting upright...

Or at least trying to, as her forehead smacked into the owner of the eyes...

**Crack!**

Right on the bridge of the nose, breaking it, and sending the owner tumbling backward with a series of rather musical and rapid fire oaths, none of which she could decipher, but obviously knew were not particularly nice.

"What the hell?!" She barked, panting in sudden fear, her eyes taking in her surroundings again.

"Be at ease, young one," a voice spoke, it's owner an auburn haired teen, from her side where she knelt next to the dark-haired young half-blood, "you are fine now."

"I certainly hope so," a nasally voice said from the floor near the fur lined walls of the tent, it's owner lifting himself up into a seated position, revealing Xander pinching his nose even as little dribbles of blood stained his shirt, "I really don't want my broken nose to be in vain," he finished, looking mildly annoyed but not angry.

"'Twas thou own fault, boy," the dark skinned Hunter that Bianca had noticed in the camp, one that seemed to have a degree of authority, said derisively. Obviously, she wasn't the biggest fan of the male gender, judging by the wicked leer and sneer at the chaotic eyed boy.

"Oh, I agree with that," Xander agreed as he reached into his red silk pouch with his free hand, rummaging around for something, "still bloody hurts though. Now where is- aha!" He cried as he evidently found what he was looking and drew his hand from the pouch.

In it was clutched what seemed to be a peach. If peaches were solid gold in colour and glowing vividly. It seemed to be more a jewellery decoration than a fruit, full of splendour that wasn't natural

Without hesitation, he bit into and swiftly finished it off in neat bites, somehow never spilling a drop of the juice or allowing it to flow over his lips like a greedy child. As he did so, his whole body began to glow a faint gold, making Bianca squint a little at the dim brightness. She also thought she could see the drops of blood from his broken nose seemingly flow back, like a waterfall in reverse, into his nostrils and vanishing. A second crack was heard even as the boy moaned in what seemed to be relief as his nose shifted back into place.

"Much better," he said, his voice back to it's smooth yet cheerful tones, as he eyed the stone of the fruit he had just eaten, "it may not be as good as Twinkies for my sweetened palette, but damn if it doesn't fix me up good," he chuckled slightly as he put away the leftover stone of the peach away in his pouch.

"Where did thou obtain that fruit?" Said the dark skinned Hunter, her eyes suddenly intent and deadly, her lips scowling.

Xander raised an eyebrow, nonplussed, as he simply crossed his legs where he sat, obviously not going anywhere anytime soon, "It was a gift, from someone I knew well."

The answer seemed to have raised the Persian princess' ire, her mouth opening for either a retort or a demand, but was quickly shut up by the auburn haired teen.

"Enough, Zoe," she said, her voice commanding and powerful, a leader giving an order and expecting it to be obeyed, "now is not the time. There are more urgent matters that take precedence."

The now named Zoe's mouth snapped shut, swallowing what she had been about to say, even as her face twisted in annoyance, not at her mistress Bianca sensed, but rather at the whole situation, "As you will, My Lady," she said with a small bow before stepping back to stand behind her mistress protectively.

Bianca had a slightly uneasy feeling. The dark skinned girl was fierce and had looked ready to strangle her saviour if that was what it took to get her answers, but, upon the command of the younger looking girl, she had backed down, obeying her will.

Somehow, she thought that only reason that the fierce woman would be because...

...

_Oh damn._

She frantically tried to scramble to her feet, trying to show respect for the honest to heaven (or was that Olympus?) deity kneeling before her side, only to feel a soft, but firm and strong, hand gently hold her down.

"Be at ease, maiden," the presumed Artemis said to her gently, her moon-like eyes glowing softly, "There is no need to over exert yourself. You had quite a spell."

"Yes, ma'am," said Bianca, slightly anxious. She didn't know how to react around this divine figure, but she figured that being as respectful as possible may just prevent from being a new object lesson.

The hand slowly eased up as Bianca stopped moving fast and carefully lifted herself into a proper seated position.

"You gave us quite a scare, young lady," Artemis spoke, her eyes seeming to measure the dark eyed teen, her face speculative.

"What?" Bianca said confused, "What do you mean?" She looked nervously at the occupants. The last few minutes were a blur to her, cloudy and indistinct, before they were clear again when felt her cheek sting and she had met Xander's swirling eyes.

"You went into convulsions," Xander answered seriously, his eyes intent and without the mischievous gleam that generally dwelled within them, "we had just passed through the flap when you just suddenly...froze. Went still as a statue," he grimaced tightly, "then you began thrash wildly, falling to the floor, and began screaming," he seemed to shiver, "I haven't heard such pain and agony for quite some time. In the end, it took desperate measures to get you out it."

"What type of measures?" Asked Bianca, rubbing her sore cheek absently. Her memories were still blurred, a veil of darkness crossing over them, but she still had brief glimpses of that absent slice of time.

_Blood. Monster. Steel. Death. Darkness._

She couldn't understand them, or the reason they were there, but she could still feel the chill that ran down her spine at them.

"Funny you should mention that," he said, slightly sheepish and rubbing the back of his head, "it was a rather split second decision and I didn't really have any other option-" he tried to explain, until he was interrupted by Zoe.

"The boy slapped thee across thou face," the Hunter said with a brief, vindictive, smirk.

Bianca's eyes widened, rubbing her cheek even more as it stung even worse as if it resonated with the acknowledgment. He had struck her?! Her saviour had struck her!

"Zoe!" Artemis barked sharply, reprimanding, making the smirk vanish as quickly as it came, replaced by a visible wince of a child caught doing something wrong, "Enough," the goddess finished softly before turning to a hurt and now angry Bianca, "he had indeed struck you, young one, but he didn't have much choice. Your thrashing and screaming could have hurt you severely. The only way to bring you out of it was to give you a sharp enough shock, something that would bring you out of whatever delirium had taken hold of you," Artemis turned her eyes to a wincing and despondent Xander, "the boy had obviously encountered something like this before and knew how to...'treat' it, I suppose you could say."

Bianca turned back to a sorrowful Xander as he answered the unspoken question in the deity's words, "My mentor's paramour had a rather extensive family. Romany. Gypsies. And they all followed the ancient ways, especially in regards to mysticism, and she had tutored me a little in their ways. I remembered her telling a story about a far flung cousin of hers that had some ability as a seer. Unfortunately, the gift she had was uncontrolled and fleeting, often leaving her unable to react to the real world as she was thrown into visions. The only way they could stop or end them was to give a sudden and sharp enough physical stimuli that would leave her body without any other option but to react. A slap was generally the first option used," his face twisted in disgust, "I wouldn't have laid a hand on Bianca if it weren't for the urgent circumstances," he snorted in disgust, "I won't ever become like Tony. Ever."

Bianca could feel that there was a great of history behind that last comment, but she dared not voice it. The teen's face was like a black cloud, thunderous and angry, as if the very mention of the word, the name, incited his anger.

"You speak the truth," the goddess said with a small nod, "Good. If you had any other response, I would have been hunting jackalope by now."

Xander snorted, grim amusement in his face, "I am not so foolish as to raise a hand against any of the female gender in harm. Your justice would have been swift and terrible if I had done so."

"It is good that you realise this," Artemis said with another nod, "but such small praises are for another time, if at all. We have more important issues to discuss."

Her moon-like eyes turned to the form of a sitting boy, one who had already been in the tent before Bianca and Xander had entered. Bianca easily recognised him as the boy who had attempted to save her and her brother from Thorn before everything had gone straight to hell.

"I know little of what the manticore spoke to you of," Artemis began, addressing the suddenly nervous and slightly apprehensive boy, Percy if Bianca remembered correctly, "but I wish to know all of what you can provide me."

Despite the wording of the request from the goddess, her own silvery eyes were sharp and powerful, indicating both a demand and a command.

Percy was quick to obey.

His story was quick and to the point, much to Bianca's gratitude. She had already lived through it not more than an hour ago, and it honestly still scared the ever loving hell out of her, so reliving it was not on her agenda anytime soon.

At the end, the goddess' face was pensive, "I had feared as much," she said softly, drumming her fingers against her thigh, "events have begun to get ahead of us. Old monsters, powerful ones, have become more prevalent, awakening and rising from their millennia long slumber within the depths of the Abyss," she frowned, "It has been so long. Long enough that I have almost forgotten them."

She looked intently at the son of Poseidon, "My Hunters and I came here this night because we had sensed the presence of the Manticore. A beast that we have not seen, or even heard from, for more than five centuries," her brow wrinkled, "the fact that it was here, collaborating with mortals, is in itself rather concerning," she rose a questioning eyebrow, "What exactly did the beast say?" She queried the green eyed boy.

"Umm," he said, slightly confused as his brow furrowed in thought, trying to remember the beast's words, "'I hate middle school dances'?" He said hesitantly.

A slight cough of amusement came from the seated Xander, ignored by all save Bianca. She was also the only one to hear the further comment of 'who doesn't?'

Not that she could blame him. The dance had been both bland and boring, the only excitement being the rather rough manner displayed by the generally tender gender as they grabbed ahold of their, reluctant, dates and dance partners.

Oh, and her attempted abduction by a monster of Greek myth. Or was that Greek _history_?

"No," Artemis sighed, with a slight exasperation, "after that."

"Thorn said something about that someone called the General would explain things to me," Percy was quick to correct himself. Bianca surmised that he had no wish to place himself on the bad side of a goddess with a distinct dislike for his gender.

Her surmising was brought to a quick halt as the Hunter, Zoe, paled heavily, turning her dark skin almost ghostly white, if that was possible, and turning to her mistress, her mouth opened to say something, only to be stopped wordlessly by a stern Artemis' up held hand.

Bianca heard faint, muffled and clipped words from Xander. A quick glimpse showed that he had paled slightly as well, but not as heavily as Zoe had. His head was bowed, and the eyebrows she could she were furrowed as he muttered furiously, with some traces of disbelief.

She couldn't make out what he said, but she knew that Percy's words had opened a huge can of worms. Was this mentioned _General_ such a big deal?

"Continue," Artemis requested, her face growing only more pensive, as if the news was very unwelcome but knew there was more to come.

"Then Thorn began talking about something," Percy complied, "something about the Great Stir Pot-"

"The Great Stirring," Bianca corrected, leaping into the discussion.

"I like the kid's one better," Xander added his own opinion, with a strained chuckle, trying to lighten the heavy mood that had descended upon them.

He was ignored save for the slight frown from the green-eyed boy.

Though Bianca did try to quirk a sickly grin at his awkward attempt at humour.

"Yeah that," Percy agreed with Bianca with a small nod, "then he said, "Soon we shall have the most important monster of all- the one that shall bring about the downfall of Olympus""

Bianca felt the atmosphere change immediately, the warmth of the tent suddenly feeling bitterly cold.

Artemis had frozen absolutely still, a form of painted marble and she sat where she was, her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, shock, fear and realisation filling them. It seemed she had completed the puzzle surrounding the events of tonight, and she really didn't like the picture they made.

"Well, bugger," growled Xander, making almost everyone jump, except for the still frozen goddess, making everyone look at him, his normally chaotic eyes and cheerful grin not present and replaced by crimson eyes harder than rubies and a truly ferocious scowl, like an angry beast, "that isn't good news."

"No," answered a recovering Artemis, her eyes no longer distant or stunned. Bianca thought she could see a slight trembling in the goddess' limbs and felt her own mouth go dry and ice form in the pit of her stomach.

What could possibly make a goddess of such mettle feel fear?

"No it isn't," she said firmly.

"He could have been lying," Percy offered.

"The beast wasn't," Artemis disagreed, "I have been slow. The signs were there, I just have not put the pieces together. I must hunt this threat," her silvery eyes swept to her Hunter, who's mouth had begun to open, "Alone."

Zoe looked startled and began to protest, "But Artemis-"

"No," she cut off her subordinate, "it is too dangerous for anyone to accompany me," her silvery yellow eyes were now intent on her huntress, "you know where I must begin my search, Zoe. It is not safe there, for anyone. I must do this alone."

Bianca could make out the struggle on Zoe's face. One part of pulling in the direction of obeying the goddess and the other telling her to disregard her mistress' words in order to stay by her side. To protect her.

Ultimately, her obedience and respect of her mistress won out, "As...as you wish Lady Artemis."

To Bianca it sounded like Zoe was pulling her own teeth to say those words.

"I will find this creature," Artemis vowed, her hands in fists and steely determination in her eyes, "and I will bring it back to Olympus in time for the Winter Solstice. It will all the proof that the Council needs to understand the true danger we are facing."

A loud groan was heard, making everyone turn to the source.

"By Council," said Xander as he rubbed his temples with his hand, as if to relieve a headache, "I assume you mean your stubborn old man, yes?" His voice was dry and annoyed, with a hint of exasperation.

Artemis grimaced slightly, "Sadly, yes. His obstinate belief that nothing is happening is holding everything up."

"Heaven's above," Xander growled, "I heard that he was stubborn from my patron but this takes the entire bakery. Forget the cake," he rubbed his temples even more before sighing, "I truly hope you succeed Artemis," he grunted, dropping any formality he had, "because if you don't, Olympus is going to be caught with their pants down. Big time."

Artemis's lips quirked wryly, "I don't disagree, but I honestly hope that this search is a wild goose chase," she frowned seriously, "the other option is not something that I care to contemplate."

Bianca suddenly connected the dots, reading between the lines of the two speakers.

"You know what the beast is?" She blurted in unison with Percy, though his was directed toward Artemis while hers was thrown towards Xander.

"No," Xander answered briefly, before expanding on his statement, "though I can take a couple of guesses," he hiked his thumb toward the goddess, "but I can bet a lifetime supply of Twinkies that the Mistress of Beasts would know for sure."

"Let us hope that I am wrong," she said grimly.

Xander winced, "you shouldn't have said that," he groaned, "now what you hope to be wrong, will be right," he grimaced, "bloody Nemesis."

Bianca raised an eyebrow as everyone else in the tent also winced.

"My apologies," Artemis grimaced, "I should have chosen my words better," her eyes glanced toward the still grimacing Xander, "that aside, I would like to ask you and Percy a favour."

Bianca noticed the surprise from the green eyed boy, who swiftly met the currently crimson orbs of Xander for a brief moment.

"Depends on what you are asking," Xander drawled slightly, nodding in the direction of Percy, "I should point out that I am currently unaffiliated with the Camp and was merely passing through when I saw the struggle."

Zoe's narrowed eyes and Percy's wide ones showed Bianca that this was an unusual statement, but for the life of her she couldn't understand why.

Artemis's own raised eyebrow was also a strong indication, "Surprising, and I will want an explanation later, but that still doesn't mean a favour cannot be granted," she said, carefully, as if picking her words, "I would like for you to escort my Hunters to Camp."

Before Xander or Percy could reply, Zoe began to protest, "But, My Lady," she decried, seeming horrified, "we hate it there. The last time-"

"I know," Artemis interrupted, sighing, "I know. But circumstances have left me with few options. These are dangerous times and I need to know that you are in a, relatively, safe place," her fixed upon Zoe's once again, "Monsters long forgotten, and immensely powerful, are walking the world once more. Many of them could overpower the Hunt, even at it's full strength," she grimaced again slightly, "something that it is currently not. Especially with our losses last week."

Zoe's returning grimace and sorrowful eyes told Bianca that there was a story there.

"It will only be for a short time," the deity continued, "only until the end of the Winter Solstice and then we will Hunt together again. Cabin Eight is yours to use as you see fit. And I am sure Dionysus will forgive us for the ummmm, farewell, from our last visit. I have heard that they rebuilt the cabins anyway."

Zoe looked conflicted again, but, as before, bowed her head to her matron's greater knowledge, "As you wish, My Lady."

"Good," the goddess of the moon said with a nod, before eying the two males in the tent, " and your answers?"

"Uhhhh, sure," shrugged Percy, "it's not a problem."

"My thanks, child of Poseidon," Artemis nodded even as her eyes swivelled to the frowning Xander, his brows knitted in thought, "and you?"

Silence was the only reply for a moment, as those still crimson eyes flicked from person to person within the tent. He seemed to be struggling with something, weighing the odds, or the advantages and disadvantages. Finally he spoke, making his decision known.

"I can do this," he said with a nod, before his frown went deeper, "but I will only escort them to Camp, nothing more. I have other claims on my time rather than stay at a summer camp for battle training. Like your Hunters, I have little desire to be at the place."

Artemis's lips quirked, "On that we can agree," she nodded, "and my thanks for doing so."

Xander merely shrugged not replying.

"But let us leave this subject for now," Silvery eyes locked onto Bianca's own, "there are other matters that must be attended to."

Bianca fought not to squirm beneath the piercing stare of the goddess. It felt like those silvery orbs raked across her soul, seeing her deepest and darkest secrets. For someone who is a very private person, it was very disconcerting.

"I would like to make you an offer, Bianca di Angelo," she said formally, straight backed and intent. Obviously this was serious and would need to be treated as such.

"And what is that, Lady Artemis?" she responded just as formally. She wasn't sure what the goddess wanted to offer, but she had no desire to offend her by not taking it seriously.

If the myths/history/whatever were accurate, people who offend the gods rarely live long. And those that did... often wish they hadn't.

The next words from the deity had her off kilter and scrambling for a response.

"I would like to offer you a place amongst my Hunters," Artemis said bluntly.

Bianca blinked in surprise, even as her mind struggled to understand the offer that was presented to her, and was silently gaping at what she had heard.

Thankfully, the silence, which could have offended the goddess, was filled by the voice of Percy.

Whether that was a good or bad thing she wasn't sure.

"Wait," Percy said, holding up a hand, "what is this about an offer? I thought she was supposed to come to camp, along with her brother."

"If she were a _boy_," spoke Zoe, placing a rather heavy amount of derision of the last word, "this would be so. As she is a girl, other options are available."

Percy went to speak, only to be clapped hard on the shoulder, silencing him, and make him look over his shoulder. Bianca, Zoe and Artemis all looked surprised at the owner of the hand.

"Might be best to watch your words," Xander warned, looking down into sea green eyes from where he now stood, his previous seated position vacated to a swift movement almost unseen, "one of the biggest mistakes you can make with any of the female gender, is to tell them they _can't_, or are _not_ to, do something," he grimaced slightly, "all it does it make them more determined to do the exact opposite, despite whatever advice of common sense they have," his eyes pierced sea green even more, "this is a choice that you cannot, and indeed will not, make for her. You have no authority over her, no one does. Her choices are her own and will be respected. It is she who will live with the consequences, good and bad, of her decision," his eyes now seemed to burn with a crimson fire, scorching the slightly cringing child of Poseidon, towering over him even if their heights were rather similar, "and I would stand before Olympus itself to ensure that she can make that choice," the flames were now an inferno of blood and power as the atmosphere in the tent grew heavy, like a weight on their necks, "Do we have an understanding?"

As Percy gulped heavily and nodded slowly, Bianca couldn't help but blush heavily. This person, who she had met barely an hour ago, had saved her own life and undoubtedly that of her brother's, introduced them to this strange facet of the world that they were unknowingly part of and, most importantly, granting her the freedom to choose.

For the majority of her remembered life, she had had to take care of her sibling, often putting his and her own welfare ahead on her own desires. She loved her brother dearly, don't get her wrong, but sometimes...

Either way, in this moment, she was free of whatever...'burdens', she supposed...that held her back, chained her down. On this moment, because of the actions of one young man, she has found the courage, the chance, to make a choice.

But what should she choose?

* * *

Artemis couldn't help but be impressed at this mysterious young man.

Astonishingly powerful, if his ability to destroy the mortal's flying machine and the Manticore meant anything, humble to a point, while also taking pride in his achievements, respectful but not subservient, bootlickers gained little respect from her at all. He even seemed to moderately intelligent and knowledgable, judging by his own reaction to the possibility of the General being free to wander. It was a rather obscure piece of knowledge and would not have been caught save by those with personal experience with the being in question or someone sharp enough and had enough of the pieces of the puzzle to put it together.

But all that paled in comparison to the action he had taken just then.

He had stood up for the young lady, for her right to choose, to make her own path.

Few would have done that, despite their vocal respect for the female gender, as they believed that they should follow their own example.

She didn't blame the young spawn of Poseidon, heaven's no. She could see in his mind that the camp would be her best choice, her only possible choice. To be protected, to learn to defend herself, to be with people who could understand her, at least a little. And she could see his point, Camp could be a good option, but it is not the only one, nor perhaps the best.

Ignorance is bliss, as they say.

The option she had laid before the maiden was quite different. In exchange for her oath of loyalty to herself and to swear off romantic love, she would be granted many things. Limited immortality for one, until she either fell in battle, which would be unlikely due to the tough regime she often put her Hunters through, or if she broke her oath, which was more likely but still remote if they were caught early enough to be brought to her line of thinking.

Another benefit was personal training from herself, something that was only possible due to her having no natural offspring, thus evading the Ancient Law of no contact with their children entirely. This training then transformed into a companionship, friendship and then a true family/sisterhood, something that no other demi-gods could obtain with a divine entity due to said Laws.

The last benefit was the Blessing that she bestowed upon those who joined the Hunt. It was rather powerful one, because of what she desired to achieve with it, it's various powers that it granted were numerous. A powerful link to the Wild and it's inhabitants, thus enabling understanding, and even speech in some cases, between them, increased vitality, strength and speed as befitting those who understand the 'Circle of Life' (Not the 'Lion King' version of it. Apollo was still in hot water from her about backing that travesty to the natural order.) and their place in it, a sense of calm, of peace, that eased ADHD her demi-god Hunters had without losing the advantages it provided, an enhanced ability of using ranged weapons, the bow in particular. All of these and more were grouped under this powerful Blessing, often changing and shifting to suit the personality of the blessed.

As befitting of those she saw as her children, her daughters.

This wealth of benefits had drawn many a girl child, some beaten, neglected or simply just yearning to break free of the constraints of a male dominated society, into her arms and she welcomed them as if they were her own. Even those that had Fallen from her grace still had a part of her love, a piece of her heart, even if she was disappointed in their actions.

And now she wanted Bianca di Angelo, a powerful demi-god if what she sensed was correct, to join her.

And this man, for she could not, for some reason, see this male as a boy at this moment, was making sure that the young lady could make her decision, free from influence.

It was rather surprising to say the least.

As the son of Poseidon nodded in reluctant agreement, those surging, flaring and burning red eyes dimmed back to a solid ruby, and took a seat next to her prospective new Hunter.

"It is your choice, Bianca," Xander said calmly, addressing the flushed girl, "you have your options laid before you," his head tilted sideways a moment, as if in thought, "though, do you understand what Lady Artemis is offering? The Ups and Downs?"

Artemis's brow furrowed. It seemed that she had slightly misjudged the young man. While he may be all for the young lady to make her own decision, he wishes her to make an informed decision. She may just lose a possible Hunter because of that, but she couldn't help but raise her respect for him a little higher. The young man was looking after the girl's welfare first, making sure she knew how deep the metaphorical water was before she jumped in, and letting her make her own choice.

If only there were more men such as he.

"Is-is it anything like legends?" Bianca said hesitantly, directing her dark eyed gaze to her, "Immortality in return for service and chastity?"

Well now. This is one is quite intelligent it seems. Artemis decided for the blunt truth.

"It is very close," she admitted, "Immortality in the form of eternal youth, which can only be lost through battle or the breaking of your oath, is part of it. In return, chastity is required and even a general disassociation with the male gender. Service, however, is a matter of perspective. Officially, you are my handmaidens, companions and servants," she went on quickly as a frowning scowl crossed the girl's face. Obviously she wasn't a fan of taking a bended knee to anyone, male or female, God or mortal, but still knew enough to show the respect due to station.

Especially if that station came with the power to vaporise people on sight if they so wished.

"Unofficially," the goddess stressed, "you will be more a younger sister and a compatriot. For all that we are Hunters, we are still a family, with all that entails," she smiled slightly at the younger girl, "and I truly believe you would be worthy of taking up that role."

She smiled even more at the embarrassed flush adorning the girl's pale cheeks. This on wasn't used to compliments it seemed.

"So what is your choice child?" She asked gently.

* * *

Bianca flushed heavily at the deity's words even as her mind was awhirl with thoughts, weighing and measuring the various pros and cons of the current choices before her.

On one hand, she could join the Hunters of Artemis. If the legends were even close to the reality, it was a unique opportunity. Immortality was a big draw card. Able to watch as the world turned, the changes it made over the years, the decades, the centuries, was something many would give their souls for. In addition was the avoidance of men, something she truly didn't have a problem with at this point.

She had never felt truly comfortable around the male gender. Those younger than herself were fine, their thoughts more focused on playing the latest game or things of that nature. Older ones though...

The way their eyes never seemed to go above her neck, the way they seemed to brush against her more and harder than they should in the hallways, the hungry gazes they had whenever they crossed paths with her after gym with her tight shirt and shirts still wet, their soft, nice words that seemed seemed to have been doused in dark oil as they spoke to her, making her want to wash herself vigorously, as if to remove a stain on her very soul. They looked at her like she was merely a piece of meat, waiting to be devoured, rather than a person.

It chilled her slightly, and almost froze her completely when she dared to contemplate how bad these stares and touches would get as time went on.

Of all the boy's she had met so far in her short life, only three stood out as to not look at her, or touch her, in such a way.

The first was Nico. Her darling brother, and one who she would gladly die for to protect if it came to that. She also knew the feeling was mutual. As her brother, he had never looked at her in any of those ways. He was too young to have such...obscene...thoughts and she was his sister besides, so she was safe with him and he her.

The second had been Percy, one who had tried to save her with all her had. He had never looked at her with the raking gaze so many others had, but rather measuring, as if trying to figure out who she was and what she could do. It was rather refreshing and nice compared to the looks she normally got.

The third and last, and the one that had piqued her interest the most, was the one named Xander. A young man that seemed to be around her own age but his eyes showed a depth to them that other teens didn't have. A wealth of experience, good and bad, was contained within those swirling orbs. Experiences that made him powerful, knowledgable and willing to stand up for what he believed. He knew his own worth and was willing to show it to the world. He was proud but not boastful. Hardened but still kind.

Those crimson orbs didn't see a beautiful piece of fresh ass, like the boys at Westover.

Those swirling eyes didn't see a bossy sister, like her brother.

Those ruby gems didn't see a new Half-blood, someone that needed protecting, like Percy.

Instead they saw her, a young woman with a choice to make, and had ensured that she could make it, informed of the bad and good, without coercion.

She frowned deeper. It was a hard decision to make. Freedom and endless life with a sisterhood or a normal life, from what she could understand by reading between the lines, interrupted every now and then by the beasts from the Mist, if she went to this Camp.

The first seemed more appealing, making her heart soar at the thought of now longer having a cross to bear, no matter how much she loved it. Nico could a real pain in the butt at times.

But it also would separate her from her brother. A brother that, just over an hour ago, thought that she would never see again, not until he too had passed into the world of the dead. A brother that she didn't want to leave, not just yet.

The second seemed less appealing, but that may be because she didn't know as much about it as she knew about the Hunt. Perhaps it would be better, or perhaps it would be worse. But she would still be able to be with her brother, for however long she thought was necessary. And family was a big thing for her, especially blood.

Besides, it wasn't like the offer to join the Hunt was off the table if she refused it right now, hopefully. As long as she kept to the prerequisites, which was staying a virgin if she remembered correctly, then she could perhaps join at a later time, when circumstances were more ripe.

That final thought made her choice.

"My apologies, Lady Artemis," she said with a small seated bow towards the youthful looking deity, "but I must refuse your generous offer at this time."

Artemis's looked at her cooly, as if attempting to divine her reasons for the refusal, even as her Hunter companion flushed a slight red, angered at her refusal.

"Is this your final answer?" She spoke calmly.

"Yes," she replied, her deep black eyes locking with the deity's own silver ones, "I cannot, at this point, join your Hunt whole-heartedly. It would be an insult, to both of us, if my sincerity and beliefs were not true to your own," she smiled ruefully, "your offer is very attractive, my lady, but I have other things on my plate, duties I cannot bear to leave, some more important than myself. Perhaps in a few years, my answer will change, or maybe I will," she shrugged slightly, "either way, I still thank you for your offer and am beyond flattered and grateful for it."

Artemis sighed slightly, "It is unfortunate that you have made this decision, but I can understand it and respect it. Duties often come before ourselves," she smiled slightly again, "I think you may have been an extraordinary Hunter, Miss di Angelo. If at any such time that you change your mind, or that circumstances have changed them for you, please feel free to contact us. I am sure that you will receive a warm welcome."

Bianca breathed an inward sigh of relief. It seemed she hadn't misjudged Artemis' character. "Thank you very much, Lady Artemis."

A nudge at her shoulder made her turn toward Xander, his eyes now back to their regular swirling, and saw his slight smirk and wink. Obviously he approved of the decision she made. For some reason, that made her heart feel lighter. She would have to think on that later. She was sure it wasn't usual for someone to think the approval of a near absolute stranger, despite what he had done so far, would have such value to her.

It was confusing.

"You have my thanks for your time," Artemis abruptly said, looking at Bianca and Percy, "but I must ask that you return to your companions," her eyes then fell upon Xander, his eyebrow raised in question, "I have questions for this young man. Questions I believe that he will be reluctant to answer in your presence."

Before she could gesture for Zoe to escort them both out, Xander was quick to interrupt, "Only in part, Lady of the Hunt," the teen said hastily, holding up a palm and looking at Percy, "I have heard of you through the grapevine, Perseus Jackson, and your deeds are known to me. That said, I do not trust you fully, mainly because I do not know you personally, and as such I do not trust you with my past," his eyes had become hard rubies again, unflinching and unyielding, "understand that I mean no insult, but I would ask that you acquiescence to my, and Lady Artemis's, desire."

Bianca noticed that Percy seemed ready to object, though she didn't truly know the reason why, Xander had raised a decent point after all, before he managed to master himself, his face going neutral, "What about Bianca?" He asked instead, gesturing to her.  
Xander merely smiled, "Have you ever heard of the Chinese proverb 'If you save someone's life, you are responsible for what they do with it'?" He questioned with a seeming non-sequitur.

Bianca blinked, as did the rest.

"It is a proverb based on responsibility," the red eyed teen explained, "one that I take very seriously."

He smiled slightly at her now, "Even if we have only met mere hours ago, the fact that I managed to save her brings her under my aegis, my protection. It is why I have informed her and her brother about this whole new world they now abide in. It is a part of the reason why I stood up for her right to choose her own path."

Bianca felt herself warm, in ire and embarrassment. This strange teen had stood up for her...because of some outdated view of the world. She was angered that he did it only because of this. She was annoyed that he believed she needed protection, she had her own pride damn it! She was embarrassed because she had great amount of his trust, that he was willing to reveal his secrets in her presence. It was furthered by the fact that she felt safe around him, as if she welcomed such protection that he said he gave.

It was beyond confusing to her.

His eyes gentled, warm red pools instead of fierce fiery gems, "It is because of this bond, however small and undeveloped it is at present, that she has my trust," his eyes turned back to Percy, "you do not have this bond, nor do I know of your true nature, and thus you do not have enough of my trust."

Those last words rang loudly in the silence. A damning silence as this teen questioned the trustworthiness of another, one that he implied had already done great deeds.

Yet nothing that Xander said was incorrect. He hadn't truly called Percy untrustworthy, just not trustworthy enough. He had not put down the green eyed boy's implied deeds, but had stated that the red-eyed teen's own ignorance of the son of Poseidon was the reason for his unwillingness to let him hear about his past. He had not questioned the boy's heroism...

He had questioned the _his own knowledge_ of the boy himself.

It was subtle thing but it was clear if one looked for the differences, the truth in the staff wielding stranger's words.

Thankfully, it seemed to have gotten through to the child of Poseidon.

"Fine," he sighed, rising to his feet even as Bianca stayed seated, "that's fair enough," green eyes flicked toward Artemis as he gave a short bow, "have a good evening, Artemis."

"You as well, young Perseus," she responded as the boy left the tent, striding out into the cold snow.

Leaving two teens to face the Huntress and her lead Hunter.

* * *

Xander knew he had to step carefully now.

As one who was completely foreign to both sides of the Olympian/Di Consentes pantheon (hell, the entire damned _dimension_), it would be difficult to make a story that was even halfway believable, and speaking the truth would be even worse.

If he was believed, he would no doubt be taken for interrogation, locked up as a possible threat or just killed as a possible threat. If he wasn't believed, repeat the last two outcomes.

So, yeah, his options were very _very_ limited.

Thankfully, this possibility had come up in his discussions with Janus and a solution was made.

Though it might have been easier if he had encountered _Diana_ rather than Artemis.

And if he didn't have someone he was responsible for, but he didn't begrudge the girl that. He was the one that chose to save her, he could have just let her keep falling if he was of a mind to. But that wasn't part of who he was, it wasn't part of what made up Alexander Lavelle Harris.

So he would have to tweak plans on the fly.

Here is to hoping that it works.

"I believe you had questions, Lady Artemis?" He asked politely. Step one when dealing with Gods; Be polite and they won't smite you.

If what he heard was true, the son of Poseidon had yet to learn that lesson in it's entirety.

"Quite," she agreed, her eyes piercing his own, looking too much like Buffy's when she was in full-on Slayer for him to be entirely comfortable.

He had had the pleasure of sparring with her when she had that look about her. He swore he could still feel the bruises years, and a new body, later.

"First of all," she spoke calmly, "I notice that you seem to have a great deal of knowledge, seeming to be based on actual experience, rather than hearsay through the various mortal records of the legends past," her eyes gleamed in curiosity, much as Bianca's and the Hunter, Zoe, did, "what is the exact source of such?"

A hard question for the Xan-man to answer, especially considering the side of the goddess he was speaking to, but not unexpected. Time to let the dice fly.

"My patron is the one who informed me," he said, careful with his words, he really didn't want to trigger a Greco-Roman war right at this moment, "he was a good friend of my old man and looked me up as a favour to him," he shrugged slightly, "I apparently impressed him enough to him to take under his patronage. As such he gave me the whole enchilada in regards to this world behind the Mist," another small shrug, "add a year on the road, with all the experiences that go with it, and I like to think I have a decent idea on how the real world works."

"It served you well," Artemis commented at his response, even as her eyes narrowed a bit more. It seemed she didn't exactly his avoidance of names, "but it still doesn't completely answer my question. Who is your patron?"

Hooo, boy. Here comes the hard part. "My patron is known as Janus."

That seemed to pull everything to a halt. Both of the Hunters, Subordinate and Goddess, stiffened in slight alarm even as Bianca's eyes furrowed in slight confusion. Hopefully it would stay that way and keep the Hunters from doing something...precipitous.  
The air was tense, even as the goddess now looked at him a little differently, as a possible threat. The dark skinned Hunter looked ready to pounce on him and rip him apart if he made a wrong move.

"That is surprising," she said, slightly calm, even as her hand caressed the bow at her side, "I have not heard from him in quite sometime. Generally any of his favoured rarely come this far east."

Her words were carefully spoken, a veiled question hidden within it, as if tiptoeing through the tulips. His completely red eyes met her own yellowish silver in slight question. A deliberate glance from her towards the young Bianca made her words clear to him. She didn't have any desire to reveal the Truth of Separation to the young one. Fair enough, he could roll with that. Time to put his silver tongue to some decent use. O Father, aid thy son so he may not end up as a jackalope on a spit.

"Technically, I'm not part of either side of the family," he said smoothly, with a twinge of sorrow as he remembered his father, the one who had given him a new life. And one who had faded into oblivion, "so I haven't looked up any of the family on either of the seaboards."

An eyebrow was now raised skeptically. Obviously it was going to take more than that to convince her. "And why is that?" She asked intently, "it doesn't seem like him to just let you do as wish, especially without seeing his home."

He hung his head slightly, sorrow coursing through his breast, even as he prepared to drop a bomb on the head of the Goddess of the Moon, "His friend, my father, has Faded, leaving me as his Inheritor."

Even as the Hunter and her Mistress had their eyebrows shoot up and gasp, even as Bianca's face became more confused, he could feel the weight of sorrow in his, even as he thought he felt the thrum of approval and the rough palm of a warrior clap him on the shoulder.

He had only spoken the truth. His father, Sun Wukong, had indeed Faded, and he was the Inheritor of all his power. He just didn't say who and where. Hopefully it would cut this entire line of questioning.

"I see," Artemis said, her eyes having softened slightly in sympathy. Despite her reputation, Xander knew she wasn't without a heart, despite what Aphrodite may spread around, "you have my sympathies," she said with a short bow, which was solemnly copied by Zoe, even her eyes were slightly softer. At least a little.

"My thanks," he said with a nod, accepting their condolences. He could see their slight relaxation, even if he knew the goddess would still be careful with her words. Before he had been a possible threat to the isolation between camps due to his link to Janus, a rather powerful god in Rome, but with the fact that his divine parent had passed on, leaving him an Inheritor, it was a whole new ball game.

Inheritors were rare, extremely so. They generally started of as half-bloods to certain deities, ones that somehow found strength to sire half-bloods or immortal children despite the fact that they were on the edge of Fading. When the god finally Faded, and if the half-blood was still alive, the powers and domains of said god, freed from their vessel, would then seek out the nearest and most compatible new vessel, unless they were willed to another by the Fading deity's desire.

And what was a more suitable vessel for the power than the previous vessel's own offspring.

When it entered the half-blood, the prospective Inheritor, it began to meld with them in a slow process, one that almost went unnoticed unless they were informed by another deity. It supercharged the new vessel's powers making them stronger, more powerful. Over time, new gifts would start to emerge, all of them once belonging to their progenitor, while also changing to fit the personality of the Inheritor. Their body would start to change, becoming stronger, less vulnerable to harm, changing to become what their sire or dam had once been.

And, eventually, a new god would emerge, the child replacing the parent, taking up their roles but with slightly different powers, new or altered domains and able to make different decisions,

Such as changing pantheons.

This was mostly conjecture to the Olympians though, a well known possibility but one that never happened successfully, the Inheritors often cut-down before they could truly take up the mantle of their forefathers, thus leading to the position being lost entirely.

But the Xan-man has opened this can of worms and laid it bare to a goddess. He was really hoping that this would get him some breathing space, a monkey off his back. It would certainly draw the attention of the Olympians, but it would hopefully also grant him degree of protection. As long as he didn't trigger ole Thunder-Head's paranoia.

"I will ask no more questions of you then," Artemis declared softly before looking him deeply in the eyes, "but I will ask that you keep your powers to a discreet level. These are troublesome times and I am unsure how many of my kin will act towards an actual Inheritor."

And the Xan-man makes a touchdown! Thank the heavens for divine knowledge. It seemed she had made the conclusion he had led her to. As an Inheritor, it would have been wise to keep my head down and my heritage concealed, so she asks no more awkward questions, thank you Mother Chaos. With a few bits of very real grief for flavouring, it made a perfect cover story, true but incomplete.

"That was my plan, Lady Artemis," he responded, "but I was forced to reveal myself due to the battle before," his eyes narrowed, "my secrecy is not worth people's lives."

At least not _all_ his secrecy.

"A commendable belief," she nodded in agreement and approval, "still, I thank you for this talk," she said in a politely dismissive manner, "but I intend for you to escort of Hunters to Camp when the dawn comes, and it would not do well for my Hunter's escort to be any less than alert instead of tired," her brow twitched slightly, as if in irritation, "especially when the means of getting there is testing on my companions."

Xander was quick to rise to his feet, gently pulling a still confused Bianca to hers as well, "it was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Artemis," he said sincerely, "and I will do my utmost best to ensure no harm comes to your Hunt," he smirked slightly as he saw the angry flush of Zoe's face. She had read between the lines of what he said, what she thought he implied, "even if I think that they truly would no need my help, or anyone else's, in any fashion," his smirk grew slightly wider as he saw the air visibly leave the sales of the Hunter, "they are trained well."

"That they are," Artemis said in agreement, smiling slightly, before lightly grimacing, "but I have asked you to escort not because they need protecting from others," she pinched her nose slightly in annoyance, "it is because others may need protecting from _them_," she winced slightly, "especially my brother."

Xander was quick to connect the dots and couldn't help but groan. Meeting the playboy, haiku-spouting, immature-acting, thick as two short planks, annoying God of the Sun was definitely _not_ on his bucket list.

* * *

Okay folks, I know this was not my greatest moment, hell I think is almost completely gone to the grave, but this mostly a filler chapter. The next one should show a little more quality and flare, compliments of Apollo and Xander each having a verbal spar with one another. The flight to camp will be a little altered as well.

still, let me know what you think. Please review.


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